


Footprints in the Sand

by ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Bisexual, Events leading up to canon, F/F, F/M, House Lannister, House Martell, OT3, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Polyamory, Prequel, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa/pseuds/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa
Summary: (An Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader fic set ten years before Oberyn faces the mountain) All you’ve ever known is the loneliness and brutality that comes with spending your days on Casterly Rock in a family that is feared throughout the seven kingdoms. But what happens when an unlikely pair of lovers narrow their eyes on you and show you that an open heart is more important than the iron throne and love runs deeper than blood?
Relationships: Ellaria Sand & Reader, Oberyn Martell & Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/Reader
Comments: 44
Kudos: 139





	1. Snakes Cannot Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Well I did it. I was consumed by enough feelings, heartache, and idea bouncing (off the amazing @zeldasayer ) that I said fuck it and did it. This is the first fic I have posted since 2014 according to AO3. As promised here is the start of my shamefully self-indulgent Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader. Let me know what you think but do be gentle. You have probably seen this on my tumblr that is the same as my user name, I am going to start posting all of my fics here.

Oberyn Martell hated everyone whose last name was Lannister. Well, almost everyone.

The Dornish prince missed his sands. He missed its warmth on his bare feet as he walked along the beaches behind the palace. He missed the way it slipped through his fingers and fell back to the ground with unity and poise. He missed the way the sand cradled the body of his lovers as he kissed them to the sound of crashing waves and echoing seagulls. Sand was warm, forgiving, changing shape to fit its needs–stone was not. Namely, the stones of King’s Landing.

Kings Landing was just as cold and unforgiving as the rocks it was built upon. It smelled of horse shit and rotting food, for nothing was grown, it was all brought in on horseback in barrels–stale before it ever reached the lips of the city’s people. That was no way to live, Oberyn thought. He mourned for what they did not know, the things that they would never see or experience. In the eyes of the prince, a boring, conventional life, well, that was no life at all.

He watched the table at the head of the feast, full of the people he hated. He memorized their names, had his men keep a close eye on them and made sure he knew them all just by looking at the back of their heads–which was hard, considering most of them were the same shade of blonde. He seemed to notice a pattern, the lighter the hair, the more vile the Lannister. Perhaps that’s why she seemed different.

He was staring, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop. He lifted his goblet and took a rather large sip of wine. He took a piece of fruit from the plate in front of him to make it look like he was busy eating, but his eyes never left her. Her soft curls fell down her back, ending at her waist. She was quietly eating. To the untrained eye, she looked meek and unimportant but no, that was a lie. He watched as your eyes carefully looked between the rest of the people at the table, taking note of their gossip. No, you were neither meek nor unimportant, he could see through your facade.

A loud clunk sounded against the table below his face and it caused him to jolt upright. He looked down as an empty wooden bowl had been placed in front of him and up to the woman who put it there. “What is this?” He gestured to it, looking into the beautiful face of Ellaria Sand.

“A bowl,” she said, lifting her skirts slightly so she could take her seat next to Oberyn at the table.

“For?” He cocked a dark eyebrow at her.

“The drool coming off your chin,” she nodded towards you at the Lannister table and then put her hand against the Prince’s face. She gently rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lower lip as if wiping away metaphorical spittle. Her smirk gave her words an added sense of humor and he jerked his head to the side, out of her hand.

“You mock me,” he said flatly as she leaned into him and snaked her hand through the crook of his arm.

“Come now, Oberyn. Would I do such a thing?” She took his cup of wine and began to drink it for herself.

“Yes.” He said simply. “Daily.”

Ellaria laughed, a sound that was rich and warm like a calliope playing in a village square. It made his chest tight and a small smile broke his stoic act. He inhaled deeply as she put her head on his shoulder. The smell of spice, of cinnamon and oranges filled his nostrils as he nosed her hair. She smelled like home, courtesy of the Dornish soaps she had been sure to pack.

“What do you like about her?” Ellaria asked as she slipped her hand down Oberyn’s chest, playing her fingers on the edge of his open tunic.

Oberyn took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “She is exquisite. In both beauty and mind. Notice how she watches the lips of the people she cannot hear. She knows people will dismiss her, be it for position or because she is a woman, so she uses it. Lying in wait until whatever she learns can be made an advantage.”

“And what do you know about patience and lying in wait?” Ellaria said as she continued to move her hand down his body.

“Just because I do not practice such behavior doesn’t mean I do not know of its existence.” He chuckled deeply and glanced at the woman on his arm.

“Of course, my prince,” she nodded with a smile of her own, saying she was well aware of his behaviors. She raised her hand and put it firmly on his chin, making him look back at you. “What else do you like about her?”

“She is beautiful.” He said as she released his jaw and moved her hand to his thigh.

“Mmm, what else?”

“Her hair falls in waves, like the sea. I want to run my fingers through it.” He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in slow motion through the air.

“It sure is long enough to grab,” Ellaria commented. “What else, my love?”

“Her skin looks soft. I wish it to be warmed by our suns back home, kissed by the seas of Dorne. Such skin does not belong in a place like this.”

“That’s why it’s so pale.” Ellaria said simply, moving her hand to the inside of his thigh, messaging his flesh gently through his clothes.

Oberyn grunted at the touch and adjusted himself in his chair. “She has kind eyes.”

“Uncommon for a Lannister.”

“Very,” Oberyn agreed. “And no longer dancing around the obvious, her breasts are large enough to fill my hands, and supple enough to make me want to feel them between my teeth.”

“Ahh, there it is.” Ellaria hummed in approval, moving her hand up to cup his crotch. The act drew another sound from the back of his throat.

“Ellaria,” he started but she shushed him.

“Tell me, my Prince,” she said as she squeezed gently, feeling the outline of his cock start to harden. “Why is it that you always want what you cannot have?”

“And who says I cannot have her?” He looked at his love in question. But his tone could not fool her. His words were laced with demand. Oberyn was a decisive man, and when he decided he wanted something, he was rarely told no.

“The lion sewn onto her red dress. That’s who.” Ellaria softened her grip but continued to rub the front of his breeches, more of a calming stroke than before.

“I do not take orders from dresses.” Oberyn said stubbornly.

He looked at Ellaria but she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were upon you, her breath quickened slightly as you brushed your hair away from your neck and closed your eyes to savor the wine in your hand. She watched your throat constrict as you swallowed and Ellaria’s lips parted with longing. She wanted you, too. The thought brought a wide smile to Oberyn’s lips, and further hardened his cock.

He reached down and grabbed Ellaria’s wrist, removing it from himself and looked into her deep, dark eyes.

“Do you want that lioness, my love?” He asked in a hushed tone.

“I wouldn’t turn her from our bed,” Ellaria gave him a stern look. “But, Oberyn–”

“Then it’s done.” He nodded and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles as if the action sealed the agreement.

Ellaria scoffed and pulled her hand back only to cross her arms over her chest and look back across the courtyard at you. “Arrogant, stupid man,” she shook her head and he stopped her.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Me? No,” she shook her head again. “You know me better than that.” He smiled at her words but stayed quiet. “You’re my lover,” she turned to look at him once again. “Not my prisoner.”

She stood up, draining her goblet before picking up his as well with the intent on finding something to refill them. She paused, looking at you one more time before leaning down to whisper in his ear, “But I fear a conquest such as that will bring nothing but heartache. How does the tale go? Fly too close to the sun, Icarus, and you’re bound to get burned.”

“Good thing snakes can’t fly,” he mumbled, popping another grape into his mouth as he watched you with dark, hooded eyes.

Ellaria rolled her eyes and left the Prince to his thoughts. She knew he had already started planning long before now.


	2. A Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all came back. This thing finally has an official working title. When I posted the prologue I had not decided on one. In case I didn’t mention it before, because I figured it went without saying, reader is hella bisexual. Y'all are so sweet and made a girl feel like her current creative outlet isn’t utter garbage. This part is exposition, exposition, exposition. I promise it will get better. Enjoy.

You clutched the small book to your chest with one arm as you used your other hand to hold your skirts and go down the stairs at a steady pace. Other ladies of the house nodded their ‘good mornings’ and you returned them in kind. The spring feast was coming to a close and it would be a relief when the castle was no longer crowded. Such visitors from all over was exciting, but the constant talking and buzzing about was draining on one’s soul.

The castle gardens we’re usually pretty quiet, albeit large enough that one could go about their own business without much interaction. The fountains trickled quietly while a breeze whispered through the multitude of plants maintained by a large group of ladies and maesters of the house. It was obvious that not all of them were native, but they did their best to keep them flourishing through most of the year. Finding nature within the city walls was like finding a sewing needle in a pile of hay. And what little you did find was being forced to grow there by someone who had dug it up from somewhere else–it didn’t have much of a choice.

Sitting down on a stone bench, you watched a few bumble bees bouncing against one another and taking turns landing among the thistles. Their black, fuzzy legs picking up soft specs of yellow pollen before moving onto the next flower. With a deep breath and a smile, you pulled a small piece of charcoal from the leather purse at your waist and put it to the blank book in front of you. You traced a quick outline of the thistles, making sure to add a few bees to your crude illustration, and took note of the color, scent, and relative appearance of the plant in front of you. Although herbalism wasn’t a very fascinating avenue of study, it passed the time, and had proved useful at one time or another when it came to simple remedies and fragrant teas. It was better than sitting inside the damp castle walls doing nothing.

You looked up as a couple of women walked by, arm and arm, heads close together in conversation. They didn’t pay you any mind, but as they left your vision you caught a bright flash–a glimpse of gold bangles in the sun.

Someone was watching you.

Ellaria Sand stood beside a fountain watching you sketch quietly. She bit her lip as she trailed her fingers through the running water, letting the drops dance down her arm and into the larger pool below. You knew who she was. Everyone did. Well, probably at least. Everyone certainly knew who Prince Oberyn was and he wasn’t exactly chaste when it came to his feelings about his paramour. Had he been from King’s Landing, such feelings would not have been allowed to be paraded about. Oberyn was a Prince. Ellaria was a bastard. Now that, everyone did know.

Bastard. Prince. Titles were not important to you. A gentle heart, good conversation, loyalty–traits worth more than any title and sadly, hard to come by in a place such as this.

“Lady Sand,” you called without looking over your shoulder. “Good morning.”

She smiled and walked slowly over to where you were seated. “Were it a good morning, I would still be in bed.” She wiped her fingers on her skirts, damp from playing her hand in the fountain. “And I’m not a lady.”

“It’s just a formality–”

“Formalities are all worthless bullshit. Call me Ellaria.”

You nodded, “Very well. Ellaria then. You can call me (y/n), considering I’m not a lady either.”

“You are a Lannister, no?” She raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “That makes you a lady.”

“Distantly related, but close enough to warrant an invitation to their table. Lucky me.” You said flatly, balancing the piece of charcoal in the middle of the book so you could look up and meet her gaze.

“Some would not call that luck,” Ellaria laughed softly, a jest, but you could tell there was not an insult behind it.

It made you smile. People heard the name Lannister and started grovelling. It was pretentious at best and a ridiculous lie at worst. If you wanted someone’s respect it would be because of you, not because of your surname.

“Have you always lived at King’s Landing, Lad– (y/n)?” Ellaria asked, genuinely interested.

“Not my whole life,” you answered. “But long enough to know for certain it is not where I want to spend the rest of my days.”

Ellaria looked intrigued. She moved and took a seat on the edge of the fountain so she could look at your face. “And where might that be?”

“What?” You asked, surprised by the question.

“Where do you want to spend the rest of your days?” She said, her voice soft and supple.

You thought about it for a moment. No one had ever asked you that. You were honest when you said that King’s Landing was not the place you wanted to grow old in. But before she asked, you had never voiced such a strong desire to leave either, much less to where that might be. When in doubt, honesty seemed to always be the most useful answer in pleasant conversation, so that’s what you gave her.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “Anywhere but here.”

The answer made her smile. She stood, moving over to the thistle patch that you had been studying upon her arrival. She plucked one of the purple flowers and brought it to her nose, breathing in the sweet scent that seemed to entice the garden insects so effectively.

“May I say something without insulting your pride, (y/n)?” She asked, looking back at you and still holding the flower. You nodded and she continued. “For a Lannister, you’re quite beautiful.”

You laughed, short and sudden. That was the last thing you expected to hear her say. If your beauty was in correlation with your house, then most thought you were quite average. You did not have the pure, white golden locks of Joanna, nor the high cheekbones of someone like Cersei.

“Thank you? I suppose.” You said, closing your book and sitting up a little straighter.

“It was meant as a compliment,” she reassured you with a wave of her hand. “The beauty of a Lannister is often masked by the coldness of their eyes. Yours however,” she leaned forward and tucked the small, purple flower she had been holding behind your ear, smoothing your hair gently. “Are warm. And kind.”

The blush that crept up your neck and cheeks could not be stopped. Ellaria was beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that. But not only was she very beautiful, she was now very close. Her coffee colored eyes bore into yours, her body seemed to radiate with a heat that was not common to King’s Landing, and as she turned towards you it was suddenly a little harder to breathe. You cleared your throat and put the charcoal piece back in your pouch, starting to gather your sketches, desperate for something to do with your hands. Something that would distract you from the beauty that was before you.

“I–” you started but she cut you off.

“Prince Oberyn would like a word with you.” She said, leaning back to create a welcome distance between the two of you.

“Me?” You asked, looking equal parts surprised and suspicious. When she nodded, you changed your question. “Why?”

“Does it matter? He is a Prince.” She stood and held out her hand to you with another warm smile. “Come.”

Glancing around the garden, you noticed that no one seemed to be looking. Not that it mattered, you may have been a Lannister but you were one that was easily forgotten about. The Martell’s were a guest of your family, guests of the king–a word with their prince was innocent enough. You stood, tucking the leather bound book in the belt at your waist before nodding silently and taking her outstretched hand.

—

When Ellaria told you that Oberyn requested your presence, the last place you expected that to be was in a brothel, deep in the heart of the city. The wet, dirty streets were the complete opposite of the castle gardens, and you adjusted the hooded shawl tighter around your shoulders as the two of you walked. Merchants yelled, horses whinnied, and people shoved one another, each intent on their destination trying to avoid the puddles of water in the middle of the allies. At least you hoped it was water.

Ellaria’s hand never let go of yours and you couldn’t say that you were entirely ungrateful for it. Her brightly colored dress stood out like a sore thumb among the muted grays of the underbelly of the city. People stared at the pair of you, but they also took a step back, which made walking easier. Neither of you said much on the journey, but as she turned the corner of a large set of buildings she looked over her shoulder at you.

“This is it.”

She lifted her skirts and walked up the stairs to what looked like an unmarked tavern. The sign was well worn from the elements, but you supposed that this place did most of its business by word of mouth, not advertisement. Once inside you lowered the hood of your shawl, moving your braid to the side and taking in the surroundings. It would have looked like a normal inn had everyone not been naked. Most of the doors were closed but the occasional bare woman, flitted between hallways, carrying jars of wine, platters of food, and other necessities. A pair of them fell into a mound of pillows into the corner of the room and giggled as they took turns kissing each other’s neck and breasts while two men watched. Ellaria reached for your hand again and pulled you away from the scene and towards the stairs.

“The Prince is staying here? With you as well?” You asked, watching her with wide eyes.

“Yes,” she grinned, giving your hand a squeeze. “Far more interesting than the castle, and boring, shabby inns are overpriced and over crowded. And if you want to know something else,” she paused and you nodded for her to continue. “I’d bet they wash the bed linens more here…out if necessity.”

“Or burn them entirely and replace them with new.” You muttered and she gave a genuine laugh that made you smile.

“Or that, too.” She stopped at the top of the stairs and let go of your hand so she could hold the door open for you.

You thanked her and stepped inside. You didn’t know what you expected to see inside that room, but it certainly wasn’t that. A raised dais in the middle of the room was covered in rich purple and blue silks, pillows, and three very naked women. One lay flat on her back, slightly sinking into the silks as another woman straddled her face. The woman on top rocked her hips back and forth against her lover’s mouth, pulling at her own breasts and nipples, head thrown back in ecstasy. Her eyes were closed and the soft noises she made were exquisite. The third woman lay between the knees of the one flat on her back, her mouth pressed against the other’s cunt, sucking and licking as if she were eating a pear. The sight made you bite your lip. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but it was not enough to make you look away as pure intrigue clouded your head and pure arousal clouded things much lower.

“Not too timid,” Ellaria commented as she looked you in the eyes and gave your cheek and gentle pat. “Good. Timid is boring.”

A deep chuckle from the other side of the room drew your attention to an ornate fainting couch and ottoman. The sight in the middle of the room was so exquisite that you completely overlooked Oberyn.

The prince sat on his side with his head propped on his hand. His chest was bare, draped in a gossamer cloth of royal blue with golden suns sewn onto it. He wore loose pants and no shoes, looking like the definition of comfort as Ellaria glided to him and took a seat on the edge of the chair. She leaned over him and he smiled, leaning up on one arm to kiss her deeply and slowly in greeting. Such a display of affection felt more intimate than the women fucking next to you but encouraged by Ellaria’s words, you didn’t look away.

“Pst!” Oberyn hissed around his lover and snapped his fingers in the direction of the dais. “Out, ladies. Out.”

Ellaria smirked as the women slowly pulled themselves apart from one another and crawled out of the pile of fabric and towards the door, not even bothering to get dressed.

“Oh, Oberyn,” she said with a tone of mock dispare. “Have you no heart? At least let them finish.”

He played his fingers in the ends of her braid as a smile played on his lips. “They can finish themselves off without us. We have a guest.” They both turned in unison to look at you and the intensity of it made your heart race.

Ellaria moved to the ottoman so Oberyn could stand and walk slowly towards you. His dark brown eyes moved over your body slowly, starting with the bottom of your skirts, lingering on your waist, breasts, and finally stopping at your face. He reached out and took your hand, bowing slightly at the waist as he raised your knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“(Y/n),” he said, letting it drip from his mouth like he was saying something sweet. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Your grace,” you bent your head and dipped into a small curtsey as he kept a hold of your hand.

“What did I tell you about formalities?” Ellaria said, leaning back on the couch to observe the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking, her tone making you feel like a child who misbehaved.

“Don’t apologize,” Oberyn said, dropping your hand and beginning a slow circle around you. He brought his fingers to his bottom lip as in thought and you felt his eyes trying to practically see through your dress. “Never apologize.” He tentatively reached up and started to pull the silk shawl from your shoulders. You released the fabric and had to fight the urge to put your hands over yourself. You were completely clothed, yet you felt more naked than the day you were born. Oberyn handed the shaw behind him to Ellaria without changing the focus of his gaze and she raised it to her face and inhaled deeply. The action made your stomach jolt. Shit.

It took two tries to get passed the lump in your throat, but finally you were able to speak. “Ellaria said you wanted to see me.”

“Oh, I’ve seen you.” He said simply and suddenly the air in the room felt thicker. Fuck.

“Speak with me then. She–she said you wanted to speak with me.”

“What do you know about me?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow and stopped circling so he could look at you.

“Not much I’m afraid, your grace.”

“Formalities.” Oberyn barked.

“I’m sorr–”

“Apologizing.” Ellaria chastised.

You blinked slowly and closed your mouth. Why did they make you feel as if you had done something wrong? And what was worse, as if you would do anything to make it up to them.

“I know about you,” Oberyn continued and started once again on his slow path around you. “Lannister by blood. Distant family relation. You live with your Uncle, who mainly works as a merchant of precious jewels and metals out of Casterly Rock. Stop me if I’m wrong.” He said and you shook your head to indicate that he wasn’t. “Although the rock is your home, you often come with him to King’s Landing to trade and partake in yearly festivals.”

“Have you been spying on me?” You asked, unable to stop yourself.

“Spying? No.” Oberyn shook his head. “I paid a good amount of coin for this information.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity.” He said as if that was explanation enough. “Why hasn’t your Uncle married you off?”

You shrugged and held up your hands. “Why should he? He doesn’t get anything out of it, he would lose the free labor he gets at the shop–it would be a bad business deal to ship me off.”

Oberyn nodded but looked as if he was not pleased by the answer. “But what no one seemed to be able to tell me of your parents–”

“Because they’re dead.” You stopped him before he could continue and both he and Ellaria had the decency to look mildly ashamed.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” Ellaria spoke up and the term of endearment made your throat tighten.

You shook your head, it wasn’t their fault. You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt your lip twitch up in a small smile. “I thought you said not to apologize.”

The tension broke and Oberyn leaned back his head and let out a soft laugh from his belly. “Quick wit. I like that.” He stopped his inspection of you and sat on the ottoman close to Ellaria. “My paramour and I are in King’s Landing for another week. We thought it an adequate amount of time for you to mull over our proposition.”

“What proposition?” Your heart started hammering beneath your breast.

“Accompanying us back to Dorne at the end of the week.” Oberyn said simply and you gaped at him.

You caught yourself, closing your mouth so that you didn’t look like a dead fish in front of the fucking Prince of Dorne. It was not possible that he was serious. Was it? After a weighted moment of silence, Ellaria sat up and interjected.

“What my lover means is that King’s Landing is boring.” She waved her hand as if gesturing to the city as a whole. “The food is boring, the people are boring,” she narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice ever so slightly. “The whores are boring.”

“And that is saying something.” Oberyn agreed and Elleria continued.

“We are strangers, the three of us.” Ellaria gestured in a triangular motion. “Give us a week to change that.”

“Ellaria, I–” you started but she shook her head.

“You told me yourself back in the garden that you didn’t want to grow old in King’s Landing. Is that still true?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It is–”

“A conventional life is a boring life. And you do not look like someone who is okay with boring.”

“I’m not but–”

She stood and walked towards you, putting a hand on your jaw and looking directly into your eyes. She wanted the truth, all of it, and it was overwhelming.

“Tell me something of worth that would keep you in King’s Landing.” She said, her grip was light but her words firm.

“If you think the whores are boring, then I’m afraid I will only disappoint you both,” you tried to laugh your words away but they felt like ash in your mouth.

“We’re not asking you to fuck us–”

“Not yet, anyway,” Oberyn mumbled into a glass of wine and Ellaria spared a moment to glare at him.

“Entertain us. Just for the week.” You started to speak and she put her finger over your lip. “Conversation, drink, stories–and at the end of the week you may accompany us back to Dorne or you may stay here in your little city, in your little corner of the world and life will continue as planned.”

Your mind was racing. You wanted to say something but it was if your mouth forgot how to form words. The silence hung tangible in the air around the three of you and finally Oberyn spoke while thoughtfully turning the goblet in his hand, swirling whatever liquid it contained.

“Despite what this city may think of my paramour and myself, we are not the lust consumed deviants people paint us to be.” Oberyn’s words were carefully guarded as he finally looked up from the cup and made eye contact with you.

“I never thought that,” you said quietly. It was only a half lie–gossip was the favorite pastime in the castle after all.

“One week,” Ellaria confirmed, releasing your jaw slowly. “What could it hurt?”

What could it hurt? You couldn’t come up with an answer for the life of you. As unprecedented of a proposal as this might have been, it wasn’t all together unreasonable. A change of scenery from the castle gardens was a welcome thought. Your Uncle was here on business and as long as you attended the regular meals at the palace and didn’t interfere with business, no one really seemed to give a damn what you did daily. You finally nodded wordlessly and Ellaria smiled, warm and genuine.

Oberyn sat up, placing his empty glass on the small end table to his right and rubbed his hands together as if a deal had been made. “Wonderful. We can meet here of course–”

His words trailed off as neither you nor Ellaria turned to listen to him. Both of you continued to stare at one another as she took a careful step forward putting herself in your circle of intimate space. She raised her hand slowly, moving as if she was trying not to spook a rabbit in the woods, and let it land gently on the side of your face. Her thumb touched your lower lip tentatively.

She smelled of citrus and sunlight and you let your eyes flit down to her mouth as she drew you in. You should have pulled away. You knew better. But you had to know. You had to know if she tasted as good as she smelled, if her lips were as sweet as her scent. Remaining still, you let her close the gap and kiss you gently.

Your heart beat so rapidly against your ribs, you worried they would break. You held your breath and felt your lungs begin to ache as the softness of the kiss stole your air and made you feel light and dizzy. She was sweet and kissing her was anything but boring. When you heard yourself let out the softest of moans, your body betraying you involuntarily, you jerked away from her with wide eyes and a shuddering breath.

Oberyn was on the edge of his seat, biting his lip and observing the two of you silently. Oh how you wanted to die right then and there as you felt the heat rise to your face and neck.

“I have to go,” you blurted out, unable to decide between the shame you felt and the excitement you wanted to feel. “I–” you shook your head and turned on your heel, flinging open the door and lifting your skirts to hurry down the narrow staircase of the brothel.

Ellaria watched you go, bringing a hand up to brush her own lips as if to savor the memory of kissing you.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, my love?” Oberyn asked, a grin playing on his face.

Ellaria turned back and walked to him, bringing her leg up to straddle his waist before crushing her lips against his own.


	3. Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting there I promise. I’m trying not to rush it because I know when I read a slow burn it is so much more satisfying but they are so hard to write because goddammit y’all are in love we know it, just bone. I can also post the Lannister family tree if that helps you guys see the reader’s relation, I did the research to figure out where they fit and…whew boy. That tree has a lot of branches. Enjoy.

Sleep had been impossible. You tossed and turned with thoughts of the Prince and his Paramour and the proposal they had laid at your feet. The smart thing to do would be to weigh your options–compare the idea of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known, or jumping head first off a cliff into a new adventure. Instead, what you had done all night was lay in bed and think of Ellaria’s mouth on yours. You shut your eyes tightly and rolled over burying your face in the pillow. 

It wasn’t like you had never thought about another woman in the way you had spent the entire night thinking about Ellaria Sand. Since you were a young girl the idea of kissing another girl had made your heart flutter beneath your breast. Women were beautiful in the same way you found men to be–it seemed a pretty straightforward concept. But to the world around you, thoughts like these made you feel ostracized, so you did what you thought was best and shoved them down into a dark part of your subconscious willing them to just disappear. One kiss from Ellaria though, had undone all of your careful repressive work and brought those feelings running to the surface like a siren breaking through the waters of the sea. 

You groaned and smacked the pillow before sitting up in bed and shoving the hair from your eyes. Sleep wasn’t coming and the birds were already starting to stir outside the window of your bedchambers. You tied your hair back out of your eyes in a ribbon and pulled an old robe out of your trunk, slipping it around your shoulders. You touched the necklace that dangled between your breasts and took a deep breath before walking out into the hall.

The kitchen was already bustling with a few of the maids as they started to get breakfast ready for the guests of the castle. Fresh baked bread with freshly churned butter and clover honey sat on the table next to a plate of ham. You said good morning to one of the other ladies and sat down going straight for the fragrant bread and spreads.

“Good morning, (y/n).” One of the maids said as she sat a cup down in front of you. “Your uncle has already gone for a meeting with the other Lannisters. He didn’t want to wake you.”

You nodded but didn’t try to talk over your mouth full of food. It wasn’t like his daily agenda meant much to you, if he needed your help at the market he would have taken the time to wake you.

“He did ask if there was something you wanted to tell him?” She put her hands on her wide hips and raised a gray eyebrow. 

“What?” You ask, swallowing rather hard.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with your new suitor!” She gestured over towards the window with a large, motherly smile on her face. 

You follow her gaze and are glad you no longer had a mouth full of bread because you would have choked. In the window, already starting to turn towards the early morning sunrise, was a large ornate vase. The vase was filled with large orange and yellow tiger lilies, similar in color to the dress Ellaria had worn the day before–or colors that represented house Martell. You put down your breakfast and shoved the chair away from the table, quickly getting up to inspect them. 

“Shit,” you breathed without thinking. 

“Someone fancies you, dear,” the maid continued to smile as she laid down more dishes and silverware. 

You were only half listening as a folded piece of paper caught your eye. In swirling script it simply read:

‘A conventional life is a boring life. – O & E’

You quickly stuffed the note in the pocket of your robe and picked up the vase, turning towards the stairs.

“Surely you’re not finished. You’ve barely touched your food.” The maid called after you as you started the climb back to your room.

“I’m not hungry. If he asks, tell my Uncle I’ll be home late.” You said over your shoulder as you slammed the door behind you. After setting the vase on your nightstand, you pulled the note out of your pocket and read it over again before getting dressed quickly.

–

By the time you were dressed and halfway to the brothel, the city was awake and thriving. Shops were open and people were milling about procuring items that they would need for the upcoming days. A light mist had fallen over most of the city and it was as if the sky could not decide if it wanted to rain or not. You rubbed your arms in your short-sleeved dress, missing the shawl that you were now certain you left in Oberyn’s Chambers in your haste to leave the day before. 

The door to the brothel was locked when you tried to turn the handle, you hadn’t thought about it possibly being closed. When did brothels start doing daily business? Unsure of what else to do, you knocked timidly.

A robed woman, you would have bet money was wearing nothing underneath, answered the door, leaning on the archway. “Can I help you, sweet one?” She said, practically purring.

“I’m here to see Prince Oberyn,” you tried. “He’s–he’s expecting me.” It was only a half lie. 

She looked down your body slow enough to make you want to turn away but then she nodded her head to gesture inside. “Upstairs.” She moved to the side to allow you to pass. 

The door shut behind you and you headed for the stairs. The place was much quieter than it had been the day before, as most of its patrons were probably still in bed or just beginning to take breakfast. The thought made you pause outside the bedchamber you knew belonged to the prince. We’re they even awake? Fuck. You leaned your forehead against the wood of the door contemplating turning around and walking back to the castle. But something inside you said otherwise and before you lost what little courage you had, you knocked on the door.

“Enter,” a familiar, deep voice said and you did.

Oberyn was sitting up against the headboard, a book balanced in one hand, while the other stroked Ellaria’s dark hair as she slept on his bare chest. He peered over the book as you leaned against the door to close it behind you.

“(Y/n),” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he put the book down. As he moved to sit up, Ellaria opened her eyes. She sat up with a look of shock equal to that of the prince, the movement causing the sheet to slip, revealing her naked breast.

“I’m sorry,” you started to look away but stopped yourself, remembering their lessons from the day before. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

They stayed quiet, as if worried whatever they said would scare you off. Taking a few steps towards the bed, you continued.

“I don’t know why I’m here or what I want.” You hugged your own arms as if trying to protect yourself from the raw feelings you were voicing. “But I know that you’re right. I can’t stay in King’s Landing. I can’t go back to Casterly Rock. I can’t be a merchant.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes tightly forcing yourself to be honest. “No one has ever asked me what I want. Not until yesterday. Not until you.” You opened your eyes and looked at Ellaria. “I’m not saying yes to going to Dorne. But–I’m not saying no.“ 

You looked between them both as you focused on the simple act of breathing normally. Here you stood, talking too much and looking like a ridiculous little girl. Surely they would rescind their offer now. Surely they would regret pursuing you like this after such an embarrassing outburst, but all they did was share a knowing smile before looking back to you.

“Say something, please.” You sighed and put a hand to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Did you get our gift?” Oberyn asked, simply.

You blinked slowly before nodding. “Y-yes. They’re lovely." 

“They reminded us of you,” Ellaria said, grinning as she laid her head back on Oberyn’s chest. 

“Stop,” you shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face again, but you couldn’t help the smile that broke through your face. 

Oberyn turned his head and pressed his lips to Ellaria’s hairline before sitting up. "I’ll have someone bring us up some breakfast.” As he threw his dark blue shawl around his shoulders from the day before, you were left alone with the woman you had spent the whole night dreaming about. 

—

“So, I threw my dagger and pinned his hand to the wall.” Oberyn picked up a strawberry from the platter on the table and popped it into his mouth before, putting his hand against the wall like he was stuck to it.

“You didn’t,” you shook your head, smiling as Oberyn stood in front of you and Ellaria miming the perfect throw of a knife. He had been telling stories for the better part of the morning and you had been enjoying them immensely. He had a knack for it and an energy that made even the simplest of tales interesting.

“I absolutely did.” He insisted. “And it was even more impressive because he was a small man, with very small hands.” He waggled his large hand in the air as if to demonstrate.

“And you know what they say about small hands?” Ellaria said, finishing her wine and slinking off the couch towards the prince. 

“What do they say about small hands?” You said, knowing perfectly well what the old adage was but wanting to hear her say it. 

“Small hands means a small cock, my dear. So tell me,” she held up Oberyn’s hand and pressed hers to it, so they were palm to palm. His hand absolutely swallowed hers. “What does that say about our dear Prince’s hands?” She grinned and you blushed, looking back into your glass of wine.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your cup not knowing what else to say.

Oberyn started to lean down to capture Ellaria’s lips but she pulled away to keep her eyes on you. “By the gods, what are you sorry for?”

“It was forward of me, to–” you swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her gaze. “To discuss such things.”

“Discuss what? The Prince’s cock?” she let the hard sound at the end of the word echo slightly in the back of her throat for emphasis. Oberyn smirked and intertwined his fingers with his paramour’s for a moment as he looked at you.

You shook your head and broke their gaze once again. Why was she doing this? Was it her personal goal to make you slide off of the couch into a puddle on the floor? Did you care?

Ellaria let go of Oberyn’s hand and grinned. “You are a sweet one.” She walked back over to the fainting couch the two of you were sharing and pulled her legs under her as she sat. “When you’re with us, you apologize to no one." 

“But why?” you asked.

“Life is too short to feel ashamed about one of the greatest pleasures in it.” She tucked your hair behind your ear and continued, “Oberyn’s talked all morning. It’s your turn.” 

“Me?” 

“Excellent idea,” Oberyn said, kicking his feet up on the table and refilling his cup. 

“But you already know so much about me,” you joked, remembering the information that Oberyn paid for.

“I don’t want to know things that are common knowledge,” Oberyn said. “We want the good parts.”

“I’m afraid none of it is very good.” You said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your less than exciting life thus far. 

“We’ll start easy,” Ellaria shared a nod with Oberyn. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

You choked into your goblet, feeling your eyes water as some of the wine went into your nose. Oberyn grinned so wide it was as if he were a child on his name day. He stroked his beard and kept his eyes on you as you cleared your throat and looked at Ellaria.

“That’s an easy question?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “The answer is a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. See? Easy.”

You looked at her with wide eyes but still smiled at her seemingly natural charm. “Fine. Yes.” Oberyn pulled his feet down off the table and leaned forward on his chair.

“Yes?” he asked, unable to mask his surprise…or perhaps it was delight. 

“Yes,” you repeated. “It was a long time ago.”

“Well, that much is obvious.” Ellaria interrupted. 

“You’re making fun of me,” you said and she put a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

“Of course I’m not,” she said, and looked at Oberyn. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Do not make me answer that,” he said smartly and looked back at you. “Continue, (y/n).”

You took a deep breath and set your cup on the table in favor of wringing your hands in your lap and not meeting either of their gaze. “It was a childhood infatuation. A stupid fantasy really.” You started and when neither one of them interrupted you, you continued. “My uncle didn’t think it was a good match–below the Lannister name.” 

“But you didn’t think that,” Ellaria said, not as a question but more of a statement. 

“No,” you shook her head. “He was kind. He listened to me. That alone was more important than his house.”

"Who was your father?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow and you rubbed your forehead. 

“My father and Uncle are Joanna’s brothers.”

“Tywin’s deceased wife?”

“Yes. It gets messy when everyone seems to forget that Tywin is Joanna’s second cousin.” You felt embarrassed laying the family tree on the table, but everyone knew the Lannister obsession with keeping everything within the family.

“So, that make’s Tywin–” Ellaria prompted.

“Another uncle, by marriage?” You shook your head and looked exasperated. “I would need to draw it out.”

“What happened to your love from the Rock?” Oberyn asked, changing the subject.

“Right. I was young, and stupid, and we thought we were much sneakier than we actually were.” You swallowed hard and tried to keep your voice from wavering. “We went out to the woods for a midday–” you waved your hand in the air, fumbling for a word to use.

“Fuck,” Ellaria prompted.

“Yes, thank you–” you continued. “And my Uncle had someone follow us. And, on the advice of the almighty Tywin Lannister, had him arrested for rape.” You blinked rapidly and looked upwards refusing to let something you had worked so hard on repressing, surface in front of them. “The charges were dropped of course because it wasn’t true–but the embarrassment was enough to make him run for the hills.” You picked up your glass and took a rather large drink. “Because everyone knows when you fuck a Lannister, you fuck the whole family apparently–and no one wants to do that.” Your tone was bitter, but you couldn’t help it as you ran the cup in between your palms, feeling the weight of their gaze on you. 

“It’s not your fault,” Ellaria said simply, moving to sit closer to you. 

“I know that,” you said, still looking down at your glass.

“Do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and putting her finger under your chin to make you look at her. 

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears but you stubbornly swallowed them along with the lump in your throat. “Then whose fault is it?”

“Tywin Lannister’s,” Oberyn said firmly, his tone containing a sharp bite. 

“And your Uncle’s,” Ellaria nodded. 

“Well,” you just shrugged lightly in agreement with them, not knowing what else to say. “Not only am I damaged goods–I’m damaged goods with a terrifying family.”

Oberyn got up, pushing his chair back so abruptly it scraped against the wooden floor, making you and Ellaria jump. He moved to the window of the room and leaned against it, looking out at the people below in silent thought. His shoulders moved slowly with a few deep breaths before he finally spoke, turning to look back at you, “The Lannister’s are not terrifying. They are not gods looking down on us from Casterly Rock–they bleed just like all other men.” 

“Oberyn,” Ellaria said carefully.

He moved across the room and knelt down in front of you on one knee. “And you, my lioness,” he took your hand gently, giving you an opportunity to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “Are not damaged goods,” he mumbled the words against your knuckles as he pressed his lips to your hand and gave you a small squeeze. 

Ellaria balanced her chin in her hand and watched the two of you with a small smile. The gesture was so tender coming from a man you had heard so many stories about–and only just met for yourself the day before. It made your chest tight. It made your heart beat a little faster and see such an imposing figure in a new light. 

“Your lioness?” you said, biting your lip and moving the topic to something lighter. You squeezed his hand and rubbed the pad of your thumb over his large fingers. 

Oberyn froze, realizing that you heard exactly what he had said and chuckled. “My apologies.”

“Don’t apologize.”  
“Don’t apologize.” 

Both you and Ellaria said the same thing at the same time and looked at each other before falling into a fit of laughter. Oberyn let go of your hand and rolled his eyes, standing up and moving back to his chair. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asked no one in particular as you and Ellaria continued to giggle. 

It felt good to laugh. It felt good to talk to people who seemed interested in what you had to say and think. You felt as if a weight had been taken from your shoulders now that someone other than those responsible knew of the injustice of your past. It didn’t make it right. It didn’t make it better. It just made it…less.


	4. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is wild. Part 4 already–what is happening. Thank you to everyone who has read and been supportive. All this fluff and slow burn will be worth it. Look at that rating–it got bumped up! Thank you to my wife @vaxxildan who saw I was stuck on smut and while we were sitting on the couch said, “ya know what would be hot?” And this chapter came to fruition. I do not deserve this woman, y'all.

The next three days passed with ease. Each morning, a new vase of tiger lilies sat waiting for you when you awoke. And with each passing day it was getting harder to dodge the questions from the maids–who you knew were prying on behalf of your uncle. You avoided any one directly connected to the Lannisters and were careful to leave early in the morning, preferring to eat all meals in the brothel with Oberyn and Ellaria anyway.

That afternoon, the two of them met you in the castle gardens for a walk and conversation. Ellaria placed flowers in your braid as the Prince watched the two of you fondly. He assured you that there was nothing they were required to do on behalf of Dorne until their departure at the end of the week. It was a matter of waiting for the ships to be ready and his men finishing up any business the Martells had in King’s Landing. His only job was to stay out of trouble. Such a thing made you laugh–what kind of trouble could a Prince get into?

Each evening the three of you wound up back in their bedchambers at the brothel. No one bothered you. The proprietor stopped soliciting his whores to the Prince and his Paramour, and the only time someone knocked on the door was to bring up more food or wine.

With so much time, it was easy to learn more about one another. Oberyn’s family was extensive. He seemed surrounded by sisters and strong women–and attributed such things to helping develop his undying love for them. Dorne was not ruled under King Robert with the rest of Westeros and remained its own municipality under the strength of its princess who defied the Targaryens. Or should you say princesses, plural. Fore Dorne did not covet such titles and bestowed them to all daughters of the Martell lineage. The title was not used to look down on the subjects who were not born in to nobility, it was a term of respect and it was earned. According to Oberyn it was an honor to hear his people call him ‘prince’ and he would make sure it was an honor he always deserved.

Oberyn was second in line for the throne behind his older brother, but, from what you had heard, had just as much say within the capital of Sunspear. He was smart and well spoken, but under all of that charm you knew that a fire smoldered.

Conversation with the two of them was as easy as breathing. They seemed to specialize in smiles and laughter. They loved talking about the beautiful places they had seen, the people they had met and just to see you blush–the special places they had fucked.

It was easy to lose track of time, because in their room in the brothel, it was if nothing else existed. The three of you were in your own corner of the world and it suited you. The fire crackled in the hearth as you had finished another meal and moved to stretch out on the bed, feeling the wine settle as a warm wave over your body. The noise of the streets below dissipated as the sun set around the city.

“Now this,” Ellaria said, holding your hand and tracing her finger down your palm. “Is your life line.” The two of you sat cross-legged among the pillows on the large, canopy bed in the middle of the room.

“And what does it say?” you handed your glass to Oberyn to put it on the table so you could sit up and really focus on the woman in front of you.

“It says you are going to live a long and adventurous life,” Ellaria said, with a nod.

“Oh, does it now?” you played along, glancing over your shoulder at the Prince. “Does it say I am going to travel across the sea?”

“Does it say I’m going to become a knight?”

“Is that what you want?” Ellaria recognized the jest in your voice and grinned.

“By the gods, no,” you giggled.

“Then, no. You’re not going to be a knight.”

“What about–”

“It’s not that specific,” Ellaria continued in a serious manner. “But it does say that great things will soon find you.”

“And what about this one?” you pointed to the smaller crease toward the top of your palm and she touched it with her slender finger.

“This is your heart line,” she smiled.

“Ah,” you said. Of course it was. You knew you should stop her before she delved too far into that one, but you didn’t want to. “So, love?”

“More or less.” She kept her voice carefully even.

“And what does it say?”

“It shows you have an open heart,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “That your kindness is only matched by your ability to accept those who you care for.” She saw your hesitation and gestured Oberyn to the bed with her other hand. Oberyn knelt beside you and offered his left hand to Ellaria, mirroring you. “Look at Oberyn’s–see?” she traced the crease in his palm. “His is much the same.”

“Meaning?” you asked, biting your lip and playing the fool.

“Without an open heart,” Oberyn leaned onto his side, propping his head in his hand. His stretched out body took up most of the length of the bed. “You miss out on half of the world’s pleasures.”

“Exactly,” Ellaria agreed.

“Men,” he said, before leaning down to kiss the skin of Ellaria’s crossed thigh. “Women. Who would want to miss out on such beauty?”

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as the look he gave you made your head spin. Did he know what he was doing? Was it specifically for you or did he do this to everyone he met? The more time you spent with the two of them the more you were starting to understand–an open mind for pleasure, but perhaps when it came to true emotion, the two of them were a little more selective. After all, despite all of the courtesans and sexual exploits, the two of them were the only ones to hold each other through the bad memories.

“You’re making all of this up, aren’t you?” You tried one more time to divert the conversation but neither of them were going to fall for it.

“It’s just a fun game we play back in Dorne,” Ellaria shrugged. She continued to trace her finger over your palm, up to your wrist and back down. “(Y/n), I have to ask–”

“Yes?” You said, perhaps too eager.

It made her smile. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

“No,” you said, and before she could ask, you swallowed hard and added. “But I’ve thought about it.”

“Before or after I kissed you?” Ellaria asked.

“Both.”

“Half of the world’s pleasures,” Oberyn confirmed and looked at Ellaria dreamily.

“I’d like to do it again,” Ellaria said. “That is, if it’s alright?”

This time she was asking. Ellaria Sand was asking to kiss you again. If you thought you felt light headed at any time in the last few days, it was nothing compared to how you felt now. The breeze that had been drifting in from the window was the only sound as it lightly rustled the gossamer curtains and blew over your heated skin. You folded your hands in your lap and knew you needed to think about it. But you didn’t want to, you didn’t have time. No apologies. There was nothing you needed to be sorry for while you were with the two of them. That’s what they had told you, right? Seven hells.

“Yes.”

The one word left your lips liked a wave crashing on the rocks. Three little letters felt like you had just given away your soul and you were happy to do so.

Ellaria smiled, adjusting her legs until she was kneeling before you. Her hand came up, brushing your hair back from your face, over your shoulder. She was soft, so soft, and smelled like citrus and what you could only imagine the sands of Dorne smelled like. She leaned forward, eyes darting down to your lips. She was just about to kiss you before she pulled back slightly. She repeated the process twice, laughing softly as the look in your eyes got more and more desperate. The teasing was too much for the rate at which your heart was hammering in your chest. So, you did the only thing you could think of and slid your hand behind her neck, crashing your lips against hers.

It had been such a long time–way too long. Your fingers slid up into her hair as Ellaria’s hands cupped your face. You may have initiated the dance, but Ellaria was the one leading. She ran her tongue along your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan before allowing her entrance into your mouth.

Oberyn leaned up, watching the two of you with hungry eyes. This was something he had envisioned since he had first laid eyes on you at the feast. He bit his bottom lip, rubbing his chin as he looked at the way you allowed Ellaria to devour your lips with teeth and tongue.

“S-stop,” you said breathlessly as one of her hands moved to cup your breast through your corset.

“What is it, my sweet?” Ellaria asked. It made you feel better that she was just as breathless as you were. It felt better that the attraction wasn’t one sided, that the excitement was shared. She was an even better kisser than you imagined. Every night since the first kiss you shared–however chaste it may have been, you thought of how kissing her would feel. Your daydreams didn’t do it justice. But Oberyn’s presence was too large to ignore. Ellaria saw your gaze drift to the man in front of you and her face broke into a grin. “Do you want to kiss the prince, too?”

You took your eyes from Oberyn and looked back at her. You couldn’t. You couldn’t shamelessly indulge in both of them at once. Ellaria moved to kneel behind you on the bed. Her gentle fingers moved the hair away from your neck as she slid her arms around the front of your body and spoke softly by your ear. She willingly played the part of the devil on your shoulder, and she played it very well.

“What do you want?” She prompted.

“What I want and what is proper are two very different things right now,” you tried to joke but she wasn’t falling for it.

“I didn’t ask what your preconceived ideas of proper were,” she said firmly and the smile fell from your face. “I asked what you wanted. When you are with us, what are the rules?”

“No apologies,” you whispered and she nipped the shell of your ear in agreement, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. You felt her nod and you could only assume it was to Oberyn, because the man in question sat up and moved closer to you.

“Tell me, my lioness,” Oberyn said, kneeling in front of you. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“So polite,” Ellaria teased and you felt her lean back against the headboard of the bed, drawing you against her chest as Oberyn moved to kneel over the both of you.

Oberyn’s face felt perfect in your hands. You closed your eyes as he dipped his head and captured your lips fiercely. Any hesitation in your voice wasn’t fooling him–he knew you wanted him, half of the city wanted him. Why should you be any different? Where Ellaria’s face had been soft, his beard scratched against your fingers, his mustache tickled your lips as he teased your mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Ellaria let her hand move up your waist to cup your breast lightly, her voice still present beside your ear. “How does it feel to kiss the Prince of Dorne, my dear?” You moaned against his mouth in response and she laughed softly. “I agree.”

You moved your hands from his face down to his open tunic, sliding your fingers under the expensive fabric and trying to push it from his shoulders. Was it bold? Absolutely. Was it what you wanted? Even more so. The action was rewarded by him shucking it off quickly, pulling from your lips for the briefest of moments before kissing you even harder than before.

“Oberyn,” Ellaria said, moving her hand from your body and into his curls. Her grip on his hair caused him to slow his actions.

“I forget myself,” he mumbled against your jaw. “Tell me to stop, if you like, (y/n).”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed against his cheek as he moved to trail his lips down your neck, across your pulse point. As he moved down, you turned your head to the side, kissing Ellaria over your shoulder.

Her hands moved to the front of your bodice, pulling at the laces that held your dress together. You encouraged her with a small noise against her lips and she smiled in return. As soon as your breasts were free, Oberyn moved from your neck to your chest. He bit and kissed and palmed them with his hands, sending a tingle through your lower abdomen. You pulled back from Ellaria to watch Oberyn worship you.

“Does it feel good?” Ellaria said against your ear as she took your hands and placed them in Oberyn’s thick, black hair. “Tell him it feels good.”

“Yes,” you nodded as his mouth closed around your nipple and you arched against Ellaria. “Fuck,” you gasped. “I don’t know if I can handle the both of you at once.”

“Well,” Oberyn said, removing his mouth from your breast with a soft pop. “There’s one way to find out.” He leaned back on his knees and you felt the sudden loss of him like a punch to the gut. It must have shown on your face because he chuckled and shook his head. “Come here.” It was not a request. He patted his chest and beconned you to him with his pointer finger. You crawled to him willingly, entranced by the look in his dark eyes as he leaned back against the headboard. “Put your back here,” he touched his chest again and you obeyed. You were fairly certain you would have done anything he asked in that moment. The thought should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t.

“Ellaria?” you said, looking for her as you laid back against the prince. The question made her smile as she removed her bracelets and placed them on the table before crawling back to the two of you.

“I’m right here, sweet one.” She purred and used a ribbon around her wrist to tie her hair back away from her face.

This time when Oberyn spoke, the deep timber of his voice hummed against your bare back as your dress continued to slip from your shoulders. That voice would be in your dreams until the end of your days. It would call out the most primal desires from you, and you were ready to be consumed by it. He brought his hands around you and traced them down your arms, making the skin he touched break out in goosebumps.

“Ellaria has a talent,” he said, pressing soft kisses against your temple as you settled against his bare chest.

“Is that so?” You asked playfully, proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

“Mhm,” he hummed. His hands moved down to your dress, using them to gather the fabric and pull it up towards your waist. The loose material bunched together easily, leaving your thighs bare to the woman in front of you. You turned your head and hid in the crook of Oberyn’s neck. He lowered his voice and cupped your cheek gently. “If you say stop, this stops. Do you understand?” He asked and you nodded against his neck but that wasn’t enough. “Answer me, (y/n).”

“Yes, yes I understand.” You said hurriedly, wanting more than anything for them to keep going. Your body gave a small jolt as you felt Ellaria’s hands on your thighs, pinning them against Oberyn’s legs as she dipped her head under your skirts.

“Good girl,” he praised, putting a firm hand on your chin and turning your head so he could capture your lips.

Something about the way he said those two words felt like he spoke them directly to your cunt. You would have done anything he asked, anything he wanted–in that moment, he wasn’t just Oberyn…he was your Prince. You would have put on a suit of armor and carried the Dornish flag. You would have fallen to your knees in the Red Keep and renounced the King himself if it meant the man holding you would call you a 'good girl’ again. Seven hells, how did he do that?

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth at the exact moment Ellaria’s mouth found your dripping core. Their synchronization drew a gasp from you, but wasn’t surprising. They had been lovers for many years, they knew each other intimately and that didn’t change simply because you were in the middle.

Ellaria was not shy when it came to pressing her mouth to the lips of your cunt. She licked a firm line from the bottom to the top of your slit, her fingers digging into your thighs to keep you spread for her. She teased. She tormented. She indulged your desire for her. She pulled back for a quick breath before diving back to you and sucking firmly on your labia. She danced around where you wanted her most and it was a sweet form of torture that you never wanted to end. You reached back and slid your fingers through Oberyn’s hair, closing your eyes tightly and moaning against the side of his face.

“That’s it, my lioness. Let go,” he cooed, his lips moving against your cheek as he spoke. You tightened your grip on his hair as his large hands settled on your waist, keeping you still.

“Oberyn,” you panted and he gripped you tighter. You could feel the hard press of his cock against your back and you couldn’t help it as you shamelessly rubbed back against him, causing him to growl deeply and nip your jaw with his teeth.

“Minx,” he mumbled before moving his hands from your waist, fingers trailing up your arms to grip your wrists. Ellaria chose that moment to finally close her mouth around your clit and you cried out, pulling against Oberyn who held fast. “Ah, ah,” he tsked, tightening his grip. You tested his strength again, jerking your wrists against his power. You didn’t want him to let go, but the idea that you didn’t have a choice did things to your libido. You wanted him to overpower you, to pin you down and take what you would willingly give–such a thought made you blush and turn to hide against his neck again.

“Do you like that?” He said, a hint of breathlessness in his tone. “You want me to hold you here and let Ellaria ravish your aching cunt?”

“Yes!” You gasped out. His words made your heart race. They were filthy, and you craved more of them.

“What if I told you you looked like a vision right now? Gasping, struggling–knowing you can’t say no to your prince.”

That did it. Fuck. Your Prince. Your Prince. He licked a hot line up your cheek and Ellaria sucked hard against the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. You felt her right hand leave your thigh as she slid two fingers inside of you and you whimpered her name like a prayer to whatever gods would listen.

“Ellaria,” you said, feeling a comforting heat begin to settle low in your belly. She stroked the fire of your impending orgasm with her expert fingers. She reached the places you couldn’t reach with your own hand during the lonely nights in your bed at Casterly Rock. The pads of her middle two digits rubbed the soft spongy spot on the roof of your core and you saw stars. You tried to sit up as pleasure rushed through you but Oberyn held you against him tightly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together and Ellaria used the hand that wasn’t currently inside of you to keep them spread.

“Come for me, just for me,” Oberyn continued to talk you through it as you cried out and bucked your hips against Ellaria’s face.

“I can’t. It’s so–fuck. Fuck,” you whined, looking down to watch Ellaria’s dark curls between your thighs, taking your clit in her mouth again. It was as if she could feel your gaze and she fisted the soft material of your skirts to make sure your view was unobstructed. “It’s too much–”

“No, it’s not,” Oberyn said, pulling your hands back to wrap around his neck and letting go of your wrists. Once his hands were free, he moved them down to your nipples and pulled them both at the same time. Hard. “Again,” he commanded as Ellaria sucked and he rolled the hardened pebbles of your breasts. “Breathe. I said, again.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a command. One you were happy to oblige as you felt another orgasm stem from your clit and up through your stomach. You opened your mouth but no sound came out.

“If I said, again, you would obey me–” Oberyn started but you shook your head. “Yes. You would. You wouldn’t defy me.”

“No, never,” you breathed out.

“That’s what I thought,” he growled and gave your nipples another squeeze.

“Stop. S-stop. Oh gods.” You begged and, true to his word, the game was over. He palmed your breasts gently, taking the pain away in an instant and nosed your temple. Ellaria removed her fingers from inside you and licked softly along your slit, kissing your thighs gently and bringing you back down.

“Are you alright?” Oberyn asked and you nodded hurriedly, not wanting him to think otherwise.

You felt euphoric. Your head and heart were light and it brought a smile to your face as you touched Oberyn’s chin and laughed softly, nuzzling his beard. The bed moved as Ellaria came to lay in between your legs and kiss up your chest. You turned your head and met her lips. Tasting your juices on her mouth was foreign but not entirely unpleasant as the thought of what she just did with her mouth tugged at your core.

“Twice in a row,” Ellaria smirked against your lips. “That’s a good start.”

“I don’t think I could take any more.” You laughed again.

“We shall see about that, my dear.”

The words sounded like a challenge and you fought the urge to hide your face again. You felt a hand in your hair as the man behind you began to put your disheveled braid back in its place. He started to adjust your dress back to cover your tits and you put a hand on his, stopping the movement. It made him smile and he caught your lips as you turned your head. The taste of your cunt from Ellaria’s mouth made him moan deeply and slip his tongue passed your lips without pretense.

“You look ravished,” he commented and Ellaria nodded in agreement.

“I feel ravished.”

“Someone should ravish you every day.” He said, reaching under your dress and using his large hand to cup your still throbbing cunt.

You gasped and gripped his wrist. You weren’t sure you could take anymore that quickly. The action made Oberyn chuckle as he allowed you to move his hand and hold it in your lap.

“You can’t possibly go back out looking like that.” Ellaria said with a coy look in her eyes. She moved up to kiss her Paramour deeply before they both looked at you again. “Maybe you should just stay?”

The request was an honest one. There was no hidden meaning in her words or in her eyes and something about it made your chest tight. The two of them patiently waited for you to turn the question over in your mind.

“I think,” you paused, biting your lip for a moment before nodding. “I think I should.”

The two of you kissed softly over the Prince for a moment. He turned your head gently to take your lips for his own before repeating the motion with Ellaria and much like the rest of the time you had spent with them, it felt as effortless as breathing.


	5. ...Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let’s have a little conflict shall we? As you’ll read in part 6, this story takes place seven years after King Robert’s rebellion/the murder of Elia Martell and ten years BEFORE Oberyn vs the Mountain. That being said, I apologize in advance to Jaime Lannister lovers. I love him as much as the next person but this is prime pre-season 1, zero redeeming qualities, prince douche kingslayer, Jaime. So, I will write him as such. This is gonna hurt.

Waking up had never been one of your favorite things to do. The fact that the birds perched in the tree outside your window insisted on singing to the rising sun was always the thing you liked least about nature. Couldn’t they wait to sing until they had a more willing audience? You started to roll over and shove your head under your pillow like you did every morning but you couldn’t move. Unwilling to let your racing imagination cause you to panic, you opened your eyes and looked down to find the reason for your paralysis. A strong, tanned arm was flung over your waist, a possessive weight balanced against your bare skin. And then you remembered.

Oberyn breathed deeply against your neck, pausing only when you put your hand over his before he resumed his slumber. The heat of his body against your back was welcome as the crisp morning air fluttered in from the window that none of you had bothered to close. 

In front of you, Ellaria slept peacefully. Her hand was tucked under her cheek as her beautiful dark hair fell around her equally beautiful face and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and touching her. Her other hand rested on top of the silks, against your stomach as if where Oberyn’s protective arm ended…hers began.

Was it possible to care about more than one person at the same time? You didn’t know. You had never been asked such a question. A week ago you thought you would have known the answer to that question. Now, looking at the two people holding you while they slept, you weren’t so sure. 

Oberyn stirred behind you and you felt his lips lightly brush the back of your neck. He pressed his prominent nose against your hair and inhaled deeply. His voice was low and soft, full of content and sleep as he said, “She is beautiful, no?”

You knew he was talking about Ellaria and nodded. “She really is.”

“The two of you make a good pair,” he said, moving his hand from your waist to push your hair away from your neck so he could nose your pulse point. 

“I don’t know about that." 

"I do,” he continued. 

“She’s so much more than I am.”

“It would hurt her to hear you say that.” You felt him stiffen behind you before giving you a squeeze and saying, “She is cunning and wild. Yet nurturing and maternal. You are brave and kind. Intelligent yet understanding. Both of you possess a gentle heart.” He laced his fingers with yours whispering against the shell of your ear. “Together you make the perfect woman.”

You looked over your shoulder at him in disbelief. “Are you always this charming?” You joked, taking the focus off yourself. His words weighed heavy on your soul. He couldn’t possibly know you well enough to say such beautiful things, but you wanted to believe that he did. 

“I would like to say yes, but Ellaria would tell you otherwise.” He grinned. “I’ve been known to have a temper.”

“I don’t believe that,” you said, looking into his dark brown eyes.

“You just haven’t seen it yet,” he raised his eyebrows a few times and you suppressed a laugh against his chest. Ellaria groaned in protest and rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow. When her breathing resumed it’s pattern for sleep, Oberyn continued. “So, you’re still not coming to Dorne?”

The question made your chest tight. How could he ask you that so soon after his proposal? You bit your lip and looked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“I–My life is here.” You said as if that explained everything.

“And are you happy?” Oberyn asked and you had to fight to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I don’t know." 

"That’s not an answer." 

You turned over in his arms and touched his face. That strong, handsome face that after only a few days you knew you could pick out of a crowd of thousands. You kept your hand in his jaw as your gaze flickered down to his lips before kissing him gently. He knew you were avoiding the question. 

Feeling bold from the night before, you raised up on your arms, sliding your leg over his until you were straddling his waist. His cock, soft with sleep, started to harden as the movement caused him to press against the soft cheek of your ass. He looked up at you with a heavy gaze and you would have given anything to know what he was thinking as he put his hands on your waist gently. 

Did you want to go to Dorne? You didn’t know. Although you weren’t particularly fond of the heat, the idea of warm sands and ocean air did sound appealing. What you did know was that you felt a connection with the man under you, and the woman resting quietly at your side. And that was something you did want. You didn’t want your time with them to end just because they had to return to their homeland. Most of your life in King’s Landing, and before on Casterly Rock, had been lonely. You were used to being alone. You were good at it. But you had a taste of companionship, of sated intellect, and you knew it was going to hurt if you had to go back to a life without it. 

“If I go–to Dorne, I mean,” you started, putting your hands on Oberyn’s chest and moving your hips slightly to get more comfortable. 

“Yes?” he all but begged you to continue, tightening his grip on you–if you would stop moving he could focus better on your words instead of your body.

“Where would I live?”

“In the palace,” he said simply. “In the Watergardens of the Martells–with me and Ellaria.”

“And then?” You bit your lip, knowing the question was forward to say the least. “When this is over?” You knew it was an audacious assumption to even suggest such a man commit to you in any way. But it was a valid thought. When whatever this was had run its course, would you be stuck in a strange city to fend for yourself?

“I do not offer such a thing to just anyone,” he leaned up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours. “If you come to Dorne, this is not something that will end. You are not something to be tossed aside.” He put his large hand through your hair at your temple, brushing it back from your face. 

His words weighed heavy on your heart and you looked down at your hands on his chest. “Promise?”

He nodded with a growl and leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that you returned equally. It didn’t answer every question you had but it was enough–at least for now. He turned you over, positioning himself on top of you as he settled between your legs. The three of you had spent the night in a triangle of tongues and hungry mouths. It was as if none of you could get enough of the taste of one another, but when it came to actually being inside you, Oberyn had held back. It was as if he worried the weight of his passion would scare you away. 

“What do you say, my lioness?” he said against your throat as he licked a hot line over your pulse point. You knew it was a double edged question as his cock pressed against your abdomen and as Dorne lay waiting on the other side of the world. 

You started to respond but a noise from downstairs made you stop short. A woman screamed and a few men yelled but their words were muffled by the floorboards and the stairs. Whoever it was sounded angry, that much was certain. Ellaria sat up, moving her thick curls from her eyes as she blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.

"Oberyn?” She said, her voice sounding unsure for the first time since you had met her. 

The two of you froze and Oberyn lifted his head from your neck slowly, listening as the sounds continued on the floor below your room. He gently untangled himself from your arms and thighs before sliding out from under the silks.

“Stay here, my love.” He spoke to Ellaria, but you knew he included you in that sentence as well. Oberyn gave you one last squeeze before standing to hastily pull on the pants he was wearing the day before. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a dagger, twisting it easily in his hand until the heavy handle rested in his palm. Had that been there all night?

The door to your chambers opened abruptly and you pulled the silk blanket to your naked chest. Oberyn had placed himself between the door and the bed before it even opened–between the women in his bed and whatever was coming up the stairs. You could still peer around his muscled back as the door swung open without so much as a knock. Two members of the King’s Guard placed themselves on either side of the door, parting just enough to let an armored man walk between them. His helmet was balanced on his hip under his arm, his right hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as he took in the bedroom. 

He was broad, tall, and very blond. And unfortunately he was family.

“Jaime Lannister,” Oberyn said, with a grin that was not at all pleasant. 

You cursed quietly under your breath and looked around for your clothes but didn’t want to have to get out of the bed naked to retrieve them. You silently prayed that the world would open up beneath you and whatever god deemed it so would swallow you whole. 

“Oberyn Martell,” Jaime said, smiling his perfect white smile in the direction of the other man. “I was under the impression you had already left for Dorne.”

“Not yet,” Oberyn said, as diplomatically as he could considering he still held his dagger. “I have a few more days in this lovely city.”

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Martells have always been terrible liars.”

“Our talent for bending the truth was lost to the Lannister’s, I’m afraid." 

Jaime’s eyes grew cold and he adjusted his stance, but Oberyn wasn’t done speaking.

"What brings you to my room so early, Little Lannister?” Oberyn stuck the dagger in the belt of his pants and moved to the pitcher of wine that was on the table still covered in food from the night before. 

Jaime grit his teeth and his eyes fell to you for a moment once Oberyn was out of the way. “I’ve come to collect, (y/n)." 

Oberyn paused in the pouring of his wine and looked back at the other man. "Is that so?”

“Her uncle is worried.” Jaime lied, but Oberyn wasn’t fooled.

“Well, you may return to the castle and inform him of her good health,” the prince waved his hand in the direction of the door and moved back to stand between you and the guards. 

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Jaime handed his helm back to the guard on his left before taking a few steps into the room. He picked up your dress that was hanging over the fainting couch and brought it to his face, reveling in the soft fabric. “Why is it–” Jaime turned and made eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m asked to go find you…you’re always on your back?" 

Jaime’s vile grin made your stomach drop to the floor and you gripped the sheet against your breasts tighter. This couldn’t be happening again. You were suddenly much younger and in the forest back on Casterly Rock. You felt like a child. Ashamed and alone. Oberyn didn’t need to fight this battle for you, it wasn’t his to fight. But apparently he felt differently.

"Watch it, boy,” Oberyn said darkly, his hand moving back to the dagger. 

The movement caused the guards to draw their swords, metal sliding against sheath as the light caught the blades and Ellaria gasped. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t ask either of them to do this. 

“Or what?” Jaime raised an eyebrow.

“I am a prince of Dorne–”

“You’re not my prince,” Jaime said flatly. “And this is not Dorne." 

Ellaria started to reach for Oberyn but you found your voice. The cold that froze your body receded at the thought of either of them in danger because of you. 

"Enough,” you said, sharply. “Stop.” You stood up, keeping your body covered as best you could and held your hand out to Jaime for your dress. Jaime paused for a moment before throwing it forcefully at your chest. 

“Get dressed,” he hissed. He jerked his head, motioning for his guards to wait outside. 

You waited for Jaime to leave too but he wouldn’t budge. You turned your body away from him and tried to pull the dress on without losing the sheet, starting with the sleeves. Oberyn moved around the bed to stand behind you, using his body to effectively block Jaime’s gaze. 

“(Y/n),” he said, lowering his voice. 

“Don’t,” you said, refusing to look at him as hot tears burned behind your eyes. You had been stupid for staying the night, for entertaining the idea that this, whatever this was, had a chance of working. You couldn’t go to Dorne because that meant abandoning your family. And you didn’t just abandon the Lannisters. It was a foolish fantasy, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Ellaria said, leaning across the bed and reaching for your hand. You shrugged her off and the hurt on her face felt like a dagger through your chest. 

“I do.” You shook your head, dropping the sheet as you pulled your dress over your ass, letting the rest of the material fall. You grabbed your bodice off the table and refused to meet the gaze of your two companions. Oberyn grabbed your forearm as you tried to walk in front of him and you bit your lip. “Oberyn please don’t do this. I’m not worth it.”

“Don’t you dare say such things,” the Prince growled and you looked away from him. You blinked slowly, refusing to let any of the tears you carefully held in spill over. He took your chin in his hand and made you look back at his handsome face. “You never answered me.”

“What?” You whispered, your voice cracking no matter how tightly you clenched your jaw. 

“Are you happy?” When you didn’t answer, he asked again, “What do you want?”

You laughed bitterly and rubbed a tear off your cheek roughly with the palm of your hand. “I’m a Lannister, Oberyn. It doesn’t matter what I want.”

The sentence held a sense of finality that threatened to carve your heart in two. It didn’t matter what you wanted, because the Lannister in your blood came first. It didn’t matter back then and it didn’t matter now. You wanted what you were made to want, it was as simple as that. Oberyn and Ellaria offered you freedom, but it was a freedom you could never have. And the sooner you made peace with that, the less it would hurt when you watched them sail away at the end of the week. 

“You cannot believe that–” Oberyn tried but you leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently, stopping his words.

“Thank you,” you said softly against his skin and he closed his eyes tightly to savor the feeling of you close to him. You were saying goodbye without actually speaking the words into existence and the pain on his face was clear.

Jaime waited by the door with a smirk on his face that you wanted to cut off with Oberyn’s dagger. He extended his arm to you and you shoved it away, grabbing your shoes instead. 

“Oberyn,” Ellaria rose to her knees and looked at him pleadingly. She begged him wordlessly to stop this, to stop Jaime, to stop you from walking out that door and out of their safe haven. 

Oberyn ignored her, knowing that in this moment he was powerless. It was a feeling that he hated. “Jaime.” He said firmly enough that the two of you stopped in the doorway. Jaime kept his grip on your arm tight as he looked back at the prince. “Tell your father I will add this to his list of sins.”

Jaime grinned. “Oh, I will.”

He pulled you through the doorway without giving you a chance to look back and you had never hated him more. You hated him that day on Casterly Rock. And you hated him now. It made your heart feel sick and shriveled. 

He had little regard for the way you stumbled down the steps in your sandals that were only partially on. His grip being more than enough to keep you standing. The whores of the brothel watched as he pulled you out of the door like a lover scorned by your fornication. It was humiliating. It made your cheeks and neck burn with embarrassment when you knew you should have been worried about what would happen once you were back in the palace. 

“Let go,” you grit through your teeth as the two of you made it into the street. 

He mounted his horse wordlessly, throwing his leg over the beast with a grunt and adjusting the cloak that was clasped to his golden pauldrons. He offered a gloved hand down to you with a grin. 

“Come on, (y/n),” he said.

You looked at his hand in disgust before looking back up at him. “I can walk back on my own, thank you.” The words sounded childish to your own ears but you couldn’t bear the idea of giving Jaime the pleasure of dragging you back to your uncle. 

“I’m not asking,” he said, lowered his voice as he looked you in the eyes. 

You could feel people watching the two of you. You could only imagine what it looked like to those passing by–a half-dressed woman and the Kingslayer. Taking his hand reluctantly, you let him hoist you up into the saddle in front of him with your back pressed firmly against the steel of his gilded breastplate. You put your hands gently in the mane of the white mare and looked straight ahead stubbornly ignoring everything about the man behind you. 

Jaime wrapped one arm tightly around your waist as he grabbed the reins with the other. His breath was hot against your curls as he whispered in your ear. “See? That wasn’t hard. Since we seem to be making a habit of this, it would be more fun if you weren’t such a frigid bitch.”

He licked the shell of your ear and you jerked your head away from him in disgust. It made him chuckle as he clicked his heels against the animal’s haunches and the rest of the King’s Guard followed suit. 

Against your better judgement, you looked up at the second floor of the brothel, easily finding the window to the bedroom you had practically spent the last few days in. Not surprisingly, you found Oberyn staring out at you, his face was stoic but he couldn’t keep the pain he felt in his chest out of his eyes. Ellaria had her arms wrapped around his bicep, looking down at you in much the same way, before she glanced at Jamie and her expression turned venomous. Your heart lightened ever so slightly because you knew…this wasn’t over.


	6. Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This…this was a hard one to write. That’s probably why it is about 1k words shorter than what I normally like. A lot of internal despair and heartache. this👏 chapter👏 is👏 painful 👏I'm👏 not 👏fucking👏 around.👏 I will fix it I promise. Rest assured, Oberyn gets to speak with Jaime in part 7…

The ride back to the castle was just as awful as you knew it would be. You didn’t have to be facing him to feel the arrogant smirk that Jaime wore as the two of you rode back to the red keep. Your humiliation was his joy, your suffering was his job well done. He may have acted upon the orders of Tywin Lannister but he did so with a joyful willingness that fueled his sadistic nature.

He reached up and took your hand as he helped you off of the horse. With shaking fingers, you haphazardly laced your bodice to try and look less disheveled as the two of you walked into the castle side by side. 

“Is my Uncle really worried?” You asked, your voice sounding echoed in the stone hallways filled only by the heavy footfalls of the King’s guard. 

“He’s worried because my father tells him to be.” Jaime said flatly, his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword.

“So, Oberyn was right,” you glanced at him, your mouth set into a hard frown. “This is Tywin’s doing. Why does he care?”

Jaime grinned and looked at you. A small amount of surprise filled his soft blue eyes and it made your stomach queasy. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Jaime shook his head, letting his long blonde hair move side to side as he chuckled deep within his chest. “Oh, (y/n). You are still very much the ignorant child that I knew on the rock." 

You glared at him and his words caused a wave of anger to rise up in your chest. It made you feel braver, more solid, and you held on to it tightly because it was better than the heartache you carried thinking about Oberyn and Ellaria. 

"As fun as it is to stand here and be insulted,” you gathered your skirts in your hands and met his gaze. “I’ll retire to my room. Tell my Uncle I’m safe, just like he wanted.”

You started to turn towards the stairs but Jaime reached out and grabbed your upper bicep, stopping you from leaving. He seemed to consider his next words carefully before looking to the guard at each of his sides and nodding them away. They bowed their heads slightly before taking their leave and walking in unison down the hall. Being alone with Jaime Lannister was not something you particularly wanted but you forced the rational side of your brain to take over. It wasn’t like he could hurt you in a castle full of people. Was it? There was nothing he would stand to gain from that–and a Lannister rarely did anything if they didn’t get something out of it.

“I want to show you something,” he said, careful to keep his tone even and his smile pleasant. 

“Jaime, I’m tired–”

“Oh, I bet you are.”

You fought to keep the disgust out of your tone and failed miserably as you jerked your arm from his grasp. “You’re disgusting.”

“You can walk with me,” he nodded down the hallway towards the throne room. “Or I can drag you.” He looked back at you and shrugged under his armor. “The choice is yours but rest assured,” he leaned in and lowered his voice with a smirk. “I’m happy either way.”

You glared at him and knew out of the two options he would prefer the latter and you had already had your fill of being paraded around this morning. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and walked towards the archway that lead into the main hall of the red keep. His eyes lingered on your ass but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it gave you a chill down your spine. 

The red keep was every bit as menacing and dark as its name suggested. The stone was dark, cold, unfeeling, softened only by the large, red banners that hung down from the rafters displaying the Lannister signet. A large stained glass window let in the overcast sunlight about every ten feet on the Eastern wall of the keep. Each window held a large lion in the middle, made of iron, standing up in its hind legs and roaring to the heavens. The Lannister’s champion, a fierce, proud predator–a fearless leader. On the other side of the keep the pattern was repeated with a rearing stag, the symbol of Robert Baratheon, the current king of the seven kingdoms. The stag shared the keep with the lion because although he was king, it was no secret that Robert sat on the throne because of the Lannister’s. They had given him everything–a wife in the form of Jaime’s sister Cersei, an army, a kings guard, and in the end…a crown.

The room was empty and as Jaime shut the doors behind the two of you, the vast echo it created was unnerving. 

“What is it you wanted to show me?” You asked, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms. It was freezing and, without your cloak or shawl, goosebumps covered your skin quickly. 

“Forgive me, for this morning.” Jaime started and the uneasy feeling in your gut started to grow. Jaime Lannister was not known for his willingness to apologize. “I only wish to protect you. Protect our family.”

“I didn’t need protection,” you said bitterly.

“But you did,” he said, looking at you with concern that you knew was fake. “You just didn’t know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jaime walked up the steps to the dais that held the iron throne. It was a menacing looking seat, covered in hundreds of swords and steel. Men had died for it, bled for it but Jaime touched it fondly like it was an old friend. “Do you know who sat on the iron throne before Robert?” Jaime asked without pretense and you looked at him skeptically.

“What does that have to do with an–”

“Do you know?” He pressed the question and you decided you would play his insufferable game.

“Aerys Targaryen. Why?”

“He had two sons. The oldest being Rhaegar Targaryen.” Jamie said, turning around to you slowly as he continued to lean on the throne.

“Is there a point to this history lesson?” You asked bitterly but he ignored you for a question of his own.

“Do you know who he was married to?” Jaime asked. 

“Lyanna Stark,” you said flatly. “That’s what started this war–.”

“Wrong,” Jaime shook his head and you looked at him perplexed. 

“What?”

“Before Lyanna, who was he married to?" 

"I don’t know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I don’t understand–”

“Elia Martell.”

You felt your heart drop down through your rib cage like an iron weight. That couldn’t have been right. If it was then surely you would have known, made some kind of connection, or Oberyn would have told you. Wouldn’t he?

“What?” You whispered as a grin nearly split Jaime’s face in two.

“So, you didn’t know.” He brushed his hair away from his face and looked at the iron throne. He nodded before continuing his lecture. “Elia Martell. Princess of Dorne and middle child between her two brothers, Prince Doran and,” he paused to look at you making sure he didn’t miss your reaction. “Prince Oberyn." 

He walked back down the few steps and across the hall to stand close to you again. The smugness radiating off of him was suffocating. You tried to focus on breathing, collecting even amounts of air and not allowing your thoughts to run away from you. That’s what he wanted. You kept your tone even and leveled your gaze with his.

"What does it matter?” You asked.

“It matters a great deal actually,” Jaime chuckled. “She was next in line to be queen. She had two children, a boy and a girl.”

“Why are you telling me this–”

“Silence.” Jaime warned, putting his face right next to yours and grit his teeth. “When the fool Robert stormed King’s Landing, my father’s men took the castle. And do you want to know what they did to Elia and her children?”

You didn’t. You didn’t want to know but you couldn’t pull yourself away. The intensity of his eyes told you he wouldn’t let you leave until he was finished with you. Your stomach turned and you felt like you were going to be sick. Jaime grabbed you by the arms and started to walk you backwards.

“Knight Captain Amory Lorch found the little princess hiding under the bed. He dragged her out by her hair as she screamed for her mother and he stabbed her over fifty times.”

You put your hands on his arms trying to push him away from you but he was so much stronger. You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Don’t–”

“Ser Gregor Clegane found the young prince trying to protect his precious mother and the Mountain smashed his skull against the wall of this very room right in front of her eyes.” He shoved you back against the stone wall and leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Perhaps against these very stones.”

“Stop!” You shoved him away from you and tried to run passed him but he was too fast. He grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you back against the wall. The action knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to gasp. 

“Oh, but you haven’t heard the best part!” He said with an excited lit to his voice that made you want to vomit. He laughed and it sent a chill through your gut as he reached up and grabbed you by the hair and started marching you back to the middle of the room. “Clegane took Elia Martell into this room.” He tightened his fingers as you thrashed against him and whimpered as his grip on your hair became too much. “He tore off her clothes and he pinned her down and he raped her again, and again–”

“Jaime!” You yelled at him and kicked him in the shin, causing him to release his grip abruptly. You fell to the floor of the keep on your hands and knees with a grunt and he dropped to his knees to grip your upper arms. You fought him tooth and nail and he growled before giving in to his frustrations and slapping you hard across the face with the back of his hand. 

You fell flat on the stone floor, your curls falling over your face as flashes of black filled your vision and pain blossomed on your cheekbone. You coughed quietly and curled up on your side, bringing a hand to your face and trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Jaime had just struck you. You knew he was angry at being sent to find you. You knew he was vile and full of himself and had a temper. But never in your life had someone hit you like he did now and the disbelief briefly held the pain at bay–but you knew it was waiting. 

“Shh, Shh, come here,” Jaime cooed and you felt terrified of him as he pulled you back into a sitting position and pushed your hair back from your face. You wanted to push him away, but you didn’t want to risk more of his wrath. 

“P-please, stop,” you managed to whisper and he gripped the back of your neck, making you look at the patterned stone below. 

“Elia Martell was murdered in this exact spot, (y/n). Clegane bashed her skull against these bricks once he had used up her body and he laughed as he did it.” He whispered against your hair. “I should know, I was there. It took days to get her blood off of these stones.”

He looked at you in a way that made you want to cover yourself with your own arms. Against your better judgement, you looked into his face and he grinned in response. 

“Why do you think Oberyn didn’t tell you?”

“I don’t know,” you tried but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be coy. The Lannisters are the reason his sister is in the ground. His niece and nephew died on the word of my father–your family. Our family did his a great injustice.”

“He doesn’t blame me–”

“Perhaps not. But I must hand it to him–what a slight to Tywin to fuck his niece in a whore house–”

You tried to push out of Jaime’s grasp. He didn’t know anything about what had happened between you and Oberyn in the last few days. How dare he try and taint what the three of you had had. Despite whatever happened in the coming days, they had been kind to you, they had opened their world to you–the thought alone caused tears to burn behind your eyes and Jaime saw it. 

“Did you think he cared about you?” He asked with an open mouth smile. “Oh, dear cousin. You were nothing more than a conquest. A trophy for Oberyn Martell to put on his shelf until he can get the revenge against our house that he so desperately wants.”

“You’re wrong,” you spat at him and he shook his head.

“You know that I’m not." 

You wanted to stay on the floor of that keep forever. You wanted to be left alone to soothe the ache that had settled between your breasts and the throbbing of your cheek. A conquest. A trophy. A prize to be hung on a wall and left to collect dust. It wasn’t necessarily something to be cherished–but forgotten about until something better came along. Is that what you were to Oberyn? To Ellaria? The thought made you want to sob because just this morning you had believed otherwise. You had let yourself believe their words, that they wanted your company, your thoughts, your presence. You let yourself believe that they had wanted you. 

"Can I go?” You hated the way your voice sounded–so broken and small.

“Yes,” he said simply, not bothering to help you as you got to your feet. 

You finally allowed yourself to hug your own arms, to fold in on your own body for whatever little protection the action would offer. The only sound in the keep was your shoes clicking against the stone as you hurried for the door. You didn’t even stop when you heard Jaime’s voice call out to you.

“The feast tonight is the last of the week. You’re expected to be there.” He stood slowly and balanced his hand on his sword as he watched your retreating form. “Don’t make me have to come and find you.”

The door slammed behind you as you climbed the stairs to your bedchambers. Hot tears burned down their cheeks and once you were alone you let them fall freely. You wished you had never experienced the gentle kiss of Ellaria Sand. You wished you had never known the idea of going to Dorne, of a way out of this conventional life. You wished you had never met Oberyn Martell.


	7. River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I tried to get this out in a timely manner since part 6 was so painful. It’s a sloooooow burn, I’m sorry but I promise it will be worth it. Trust me I want them happy and boning as much as y'all do. This chapter is Ellaria centric, I wanted to explore some of her thoughts and emotions but rest assured Oberyn confronts Jaime at the end and gets some things off his chest.

It felt like days had passed but in reality it had only been a few hours. The room at the brothel felt empty, colder somehow, and both of them knew exactly why–you were no longer there. Ellaria sat in front of the mirror, using a small stick of charcoal to frame her dark eyes. She reached for the red lip stain in the small copper tin but stopped to look over her shoulder at Oberyn instead. 

The Prince had been standing on the balcony for the better part of the afternoon. His hands balanced on the railing were gripping the stone so tightly she could see his knuckles turning white with the effort. With a clenched jaw and an unwavering stare, he looked across the city at the Red Keep–such obvious anger on his handsome face saddened her heart. 

“Oberyn,” she called gently but he didn’t move. 

She moved her dress to the side as she stood up and moved to join him on the balcony. Oberyn was already dressed for the evening, his dark blue tunic striking against his olive skin. The silver stitching of stars that went down the edges drew attention to the open expanse of his broad, bare chest. She would be thankful when they were back in Dorne where it was warm enough he could forgo a tunic all together. She loved coming up from behind him and running her hands down his chest, lightly playing with the soft hair line down from his navel. But she knew her touch was not something that could distract him from his rage, and if she was being honest, it couldn’t even distract her from her own. 

“My love,” she whispered as she stood beside him and put her hands on his arm tenderly. 

Oberyn blinked slowly and looked down at her. His gaze softened, never wanting to look at her with anything other than the adoration she deserved. 

“Talk to me,” Ellaria said, giving his arm a squeeze.

“Is it wrong that I miss her?” Oberyn said, putting his hand over Ellaria’s and looking back out at the city. 

“No,” Ellaria shook her head and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I miss her, too,” she added in a whisper. 

“It’s only been a few days, but–" 

"That doesn’t matter.” Ellaria looked up at him. “Do you remember when we met?”

Oberyn chuckled and smiled for the first time since this morning. “I introduced myself by asking you to move into the palace.”

“And how long had you known me?”

“Known you?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow and grinned. “If you count admiring you from my balcony–then a few hours.”

“Exactly, and here we are. You’re a man who has always known what he wants,” Ellaria nodded. 

Oberyn agreed with her words and put his hand over hers on his chest, giving it a gentle grip. She knew the way they had met you was unorthodox, but then what part of their own love wasn’t? She was a bastard daughter who had fallen for a Prince, who couldn’t wed her on the off chance an arranged marriage could benefit his family. It didn’t mean what they had wasn’t real. Did she know everything there was to know about you? Of course not. But she knew enough to know she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you hurt.

“If I thought she didn’t want us, I would let it go. But she almost said yes, Ellaria.” He sighed, remembering the feeling of your body on top of his this morning. 

“To going to Dorne?” Ellaried moved back slightly to look at his face.

Oberyn nodded. “And then that blond little prick stormed in. The disrespect of the Lannisters knows no bounds.”

“My love, this is not our home. This is not Dorne. We must tread lightly–”

“Are you saying I’ll do something rash?” Oberyn turned back to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

Ellaria pursed her lips and gave him an exasperated expression. “I’m saying, if you shove a dagger into Jaime Lannister tonight our odds of walking away unscathed are very small.” She raised her hands as he narrowed his eyes. “Just a reminder.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to her knuckles and looking into her dark eyes. “I promise to control my temper tonight. For you.”

“And for (y/n).”

“And for (y/n).” He nodded as he pulled her against his chest and put his strong arms around her waist. 

–

Ellaria sipped wine slowly from her cup so she could watch the room over the rim. It helped her ignore the taste of the horrible swill that they were trying to pass off as decent wine. She badly wished to return home to where the wine was vibrant and the food was fresh and comforting. She pushed the meats and hard cheeses away from her plate in favor of the baked bread and fruits. 

Oberyn was doing what he did best and Ellaria was content to sit at the table and watch him. He talked, he laughed, he engaged those around him and it was no secret that Doran allowed his brother to be the face of Dorne for this reason. The women of the room all paid him special attention. They made any excuse to touch his broad shoulders, his solid arms, and Ellaria couldn’t help but smile because he dodged each and every one of them and looked up to meet her gaze with a mischievous grin.

However much he seemed to be enjoying himself, Ellaria knew what he was really doing–looking for you. With only three days before they sailed out for Dorne, Jaime’s intrusion this morning did complicate matters quite a bit. Who knew what he had said in the moments that followed after he stole you away. Ellaria took another large drink as she remembered the way you looked up at them, Jaime’s arm tightly around your waist. It had made her sick. Such a man should never be allowed to touch such beauty. 

She scanned each and every table, looking up every time someone new walked in only to be disappointed when it wasn’t you. 

Oberyn had said that you had almost accepted their invitation, her only hope was that nothing had changed that. She knew you were strong, knew your gentle nature didn’t hinder your resolve, but she also knew the lengths that the Lannisters would go to achieve their means. And the other members of your family did not possess the same moral integrity.

Oberyn made his way back to her table and stooped his head to capture her lips. The taste of wine and fruit made him run his tongue along his bottom lip as he pulled back and smiled. “Exquisite,” he said softly and Ellaria grinned. Always the charmer, he was. 

“Any word?” Ellaria asked, ending the tender moment.

“None,” Oberyn shook his head. 

“I’m sure she will be here soon,” Ellaria put her hand on Oberyn’s arm. 

“If Jaime laid a hand on her, I’ll kill him,” Oberyn mumbled into the rim of his wine glass and Ellaria squeezed his arm. 

“I’m sure she can protect herself.”

“She shouldn’t have to protect herself from her own family." 

"I agree,” Ellaria said, keeping her voice even. “But neither of us have the pleasure of calling the Lannisters family.”

Whatever else she was about to say faded before it left her mouth. She gave Oberyn’s arm a rapid pat as you turned the corner and walked into the throne room. Your crimson dress was striking. It flowed behind you, whispering against the stone and Ellaria wanted to feel it under her fingers. A gold plated belt cinched your waist and matched the golden bracers on your wrists. Your beautiful hair was pinned back in an ornate twist and that’s when her stomach dropped. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t see the large, purpling bruise on the apple of your cheek. It stood out from across the room and took away from your face–that beautiful face that she had spent a great deal of time kissing over the last few days. 

“Fuck the gods,” Oberyn growled, his hand reaching for the dagger in the belt around his waist.

“Oberyn!” Ellaria hissed, stopping him from pulling the blade.

“Do you not see her face?!” He turned around and looked at her with a fire in his eyes that she had seen very few times in their lives together. He was angry. He was teetering on the edge of rage, but even worse, under all of that, what made her chest ache for him, was the hurt in his eyes.

“I see it, my love,” she assured him. “But this room is full of hundreds of people. The entire King’s Guard is standing watch at these doors. I know you want to defend her honor but how do you think (y/n) would feel if this ended with you dead in the middle of the feast?”

Oberyn took his hand off of his dagger and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He glanced at Ellaria at his side before looking back to you with a shake of his head. “Why do you have to be reasonable all of the time?”

“Because the gods knew without me, you would have never lived this long.” She took his hand gently and pried it from his crossed arms to lead him back to their table. “Come and sit down. We will have a better chance to reach her after the feast.”

–

Ellaria hardly touched the food that was on her plate. She barely listened when King Robert gave his speech, thanking each individual house for their attendance. And the wine that she thought was insufficient now tasted unbearable. Nothing around her was enjoyable since she laid eyes on you. 

You sat at the table at the front of the hall with the other Lannisters and Baratheons looking more miserable than the day she first laid eyes on you. With tight lips and a blank face, you downed glass after glass of wine and didn’t touch your food. It seemed to her that you were determined on having to be carried out of the hall, or forgetting the night all together–perhaps both. She missed your smile. She missed that infectious laugh and that quick wit that she had gotten to know over the last few days. It pained her to see the shell of a woman so far beyond her grasp, for no matter how beautiful, a shell was nothing more than an empty vessel.

Ellaria was drawn from her thoughts as the man at her side abruptly moved his chair back and stood up. And when she saw why, he heart began to race. 

“Oberyn don’t,” Ellaria said as the pair of them watched Jaime Lannister get up from his table and head out of the grand hall.

Oberyn had a truly empty grin on his face as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, mumbling against her skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.”

“I’m not a fool!” She grit her teeth, trying to keep her voice low as she grabbed the dark blue sleeve of his tunic. 

“I just want…a word.” Oberyn was careful to keep his voice guarded. “It won’t take long.”

“Ober–” she stopped as he walked around her chair and she turned her body to follow his movements. “Oberyn–fuck.” She watched helplessly as the stubborn prince put more distance between himself and their table and followed the same path out of the hall as Jaime had. Ever the silent, swift viper, no one seemed to notice as the prince moved in between them carefully, all the while keeping a firm hand on his blade. 

Ellaria stood but she didn’t follow him. He didn’t need her help and he certainly didn’t need her drawing more attention to his careful pursuit of the blond. As he turned the corner and disappeared from her view she turned back to the head table to see you getting up as well.

You swayed slightly as you drained yet another glass of wine and kept your balance by gripping the back of your chair. You gave a weak smile to those around you and quietly excused yourself from the table. Ellaria had watched you all night, hoping for a look in their direction, a look of longing, anything–and you had not given either of them so much as a glance. Before she could stop herself, she lifted her skirts slightly and stepped back from the table to follow you at a determined pace. 

She followed closely as you walked down the hallway that led out into the castle gardens. Other guests milled about, laughing and talking, and she dodged them all, never allowing herself to lose sight of that striking red dress. 

“Excuse me.” Ellaria nearly collided with one of the King’s Guard but avoided him and stepped outside. 

The gardens we’re lit with torches and had tables of wine and food set out for guests to partake in the mild spring evening. Each fountain contained about a dozen floating candles that gave the whole place a magical glow–the castle servants had really worked hard to make sure the last night of the feast was beautiful. 

She watched as you found a corner fountain, empty of other patrons, before sitting down heavily on the edge of the water. Her footsteps slowed as she admired just how beautiful you really were. Despite the bruise on your cheek and the sadness in your eyes, she still yearned for you like she did before you had even spoken. The memory of your hands in her hair as she kissed your thighs, of the feel of your lips as you smiled against her mouth and pulled her to your chest after she brought your release–she felt as if she had been without your touch for months. Watching Jaime drag you away made you feel unobtainable, and she ached because of it. 

She wanted to call to you, to feel your name once again fall from her mouth, to run and pull you to her breast but instead she said, “I think you left some wine unfinished at the table. Would you like me to go and get it?”

You stopped at the sound of her voice and glanced over your shoulder in surprise. “Ellaria,” you breathed quietly before turning from her to quickly wipe your cheeks. When Ellaria realized you had been crying, her smile fell and her resolve crumbled.

“Oh, my sweet one,” she got close enough to touch you but when she reached out you stood to avoid her hands.

“Don’t." 

The one word was hard, sharp. It held a command, a finality that did not match the soft woman that she had gotten to know in her bed. 

”(Y/n),“ she tried again and you shook your head.

"I don’t need your pity.” You wiped another tear angrily from your cheek. 

“That’s not what I’m here to offer,” Ellaria said, letting her hands fall to her sides. 

“Then why are you here?”

“Why am I–” she couldn’t believe how cold your words were, and then she remembered–Jaime. “What did he do to you? Besides that.” She gestured to your face and crossed her arms.

“He didn’t do anything,” you lied.

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten me? Or Oberyn?”

“No.”

Ellaria stopped for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “What did he tell you?”

You hugged your arms around yourself and shook your head again. Did you tell her? You had to. No matter how painful it may be, you needed answers. 

“Did you know about Elia Martell?” You asked quietly.

Ellaria nodded without hesitation. “Of course I did.”

“Why didn’t Oberyn say anything?”

“What was there to say?”

“That my family murdered her!” You said, raising your voice and looking at her with desperation. The lump in your throat grew and you swallowed hard, refusing to cry anymore than you already had that day. 

“That has nothing to do with what has transpired between the three of us.” Ellaria spoke firmly and took a step forward towards you.

“But doesn’t it? I’m a Lannister.” Your voice cracked on the word and Ellaria took another step in your direction. “I’m the enemy.”

“You are not.” She said, her lips pressing into a tight line. “You are not responsible for the sins of Tywin Lannister. Or Jaime Lannister. Or anyone else that has brought harm to Oberyn’s house." 

"Then what am I? A pawn? A trophy? Something the Prince of Dorne can fuck as part of his plan to get back at those responsible for his sister’s death?” Your words tasted like poison on your lips and you hated yourself for the anger that was directed at the woman in front of you but you had to know. 

“Never.”

Ellaria’s words were a whisper as she finally stood directly in front of you. She reached out hesitantly and put her hands on your forearms. When you didn’t pull away she squeezed them and looked you directly in the eyes. 

“Oberyn may fight with a spear. He is expertly trained to fight with daggers. He is every bit the red viper they say he is, with fangs and venomous words, lying in wait for the time to strike–but to him, to me, love is not a weapon.”

“Love.” You laughed bitterly and she grabbed your jaw in her hand, stopping you from breaking her gaze. 

“I mean what I said." 

You didn’t pull from her grasp, but you didn’t move to embrace her either. "How can I know for sure?”

Ellaria lessened her grip on your face, her long, slender fingers tracing your skin gently as she looked you over. She hesitantly touched the bruise on the side of your face and when you winced it made her heart ache. She would kill a thousand King’s Guard if that’s what it took. But she knew such an act of violence would not be something required to win your kind heart. When it came to her and Oberyn, neither of them would settle for less than you wanting them back with just as much furocity as they wanted you. 

Ellaria leaned in and when you didn’t pull away she took that for the invitation that it was and whispered with her lips a breath’s space away from yours.

“Because if my kiss was a lie, it wouldn’t taste as sweet.”

She pressed her mouth against yours as softly as she spoke her words and you breathed her in like a woman who was drowning. She tasted like she always did, sweet and warm, and it did things to your body despite the heartache you had suffered throughout the day. This was Ellaria. A woman who wanted to know your thoughts, who wanted to know your body, who wanted to know you. Her kiss was not possessive, because you were not an object to be owned. To her you were something to be worshipped and her kiss was an offering of such. 

Her hands moved to cup your cheeks and you spoke against her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” She said, whispering her mantra against you, a law in the religion of your relationship. “We wanted to stop Jaime this morning, please believe me.”

“I know,” you nodded before pulling her back down for another bruising kiss.

“You need to talk to Oberyn. You need to know that my words are not just my own. He deserves the chance to tell you himself.” She said, fisting the material of your dress as she pulled you against her body and your arms wrapped around her neck.

“I will,” you agreed, tilting your head so she could slip her tongue past your lips. 

She never wanted to let you go, never allow anyone else to kiss you like this, never allow anyone to take you from her arms–except of course Oberyn. She knew you still had not given your answer, that you only had one foot on the boat to Dorne and the other remained firmly planted to the steps of King’s Landing. But Ellaria knew, with a determined heart, that at the end of the week she wasn’t getting on that ship without you.

–

Oberyn walked slowly but with purpose. He watched the back of Jaime’s head as the other man threaded through the small clusters of guests and around the corner. Oberyn didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving the castle until he had had a few words with the young Lannister. He let his fingers play over the pearl handle of his dagger and the smooth texture grounded him. He remembered Ellaria’s words and vowed not to end up at the wrong end of someone’s sword tonight. 

It wasn’t long before he was almost caught up with Jaime. His swift movements and steady pace gave him an advantage of speed against someone in full plate armor. He watched as Jaime went around a large stone pillar and Oberyn took the other side. Pulling his dagger, he nearly let the man collide with him as he grabbed a fistful of his golden cloak and shoved him into the shadowed alcove with a grunt. 

“What the–” Jaime hissed before focusing his gaze and looking eye to eye at the man before him. “Prince Oberyn.” He said cordially, and Oberyn gave a smug grin in return.

“Jaime Lannister,” he said, putting the edge of the dagger against the blond’s neck. “I thought we could talk.”

“Talk?” Jaime glanced down at the blade briefly and then back up, careful to keep his expression blank. “I forgot Dornishmen have a unique way of speaking.”

Oberyn gave a hollow chuckle and nodded. “Something you’ll do well to remember.”

Both mean glared at the other. Neither of them refused to relent even though it was obvious that only one of them had the upper hand. Jaime finally broke the silence.

“What is it that you want?”

“Didn’t Joanna ever tell you not to strike a woman?” Oberyn asked without pretense, casually speaking the name of Jaime’s deceased mother.

Jaime grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. “I should have known it was about that little cunt.”

Oberyn jerked forward and pressed the dagger into Jaime’s neck hard enough to make the other man wince. “Watch it, boy.”

Jaime swallowed hard, rethinking his words before focusing back on the Prince. “You can’t fool me, Oberyn. It’s too much of a coincidence. You and your bastard courtesan show up out of nowhere and try to bed my cousin? If this is your way of getting to my father, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“This has nothing to do with Tywin.” Oberyn said, trying to hide the mild surprise he felt at the mere suggestion. 

“Doesn’t it?” Jaime raised a blond eyebrow. “Tell me. Is she something to fuck and discard or do you really plan on taking her to Dorne? She can’t be that good in bed–”

“Enough–”

“Or do you plan on repeating what happened to Elia? Because I have to say–I didn’t think you had it in y–” His words stopped short as Oberyn flexed the blade and it drew a small drop of blood from Jaime’s neck.

“Don’t say her name,” Oberyn said through clenched teeth. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Jaime snarled but Oberyn ignored him.

“I know the culture is different here in King’s Landing, but where I come from the rape and murder of innocents is considered an unforgivable atrocity." 

"Ahh, yes, I forget the noble constitutions of the Sand peopl–” Jaime stopped talking with another press of the steel. 

“I am not here to debate our clearly different opinions of what is right or wrong, little lion. I am here to tell you,” Oberyn leaned in and lowered his voice. “If you lay another hand on (y/n), I will remind you that all Lannisters bleed. Just like any other man.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a promise,” Oberyn spat, making Jaime flinch as he removed the dagger suddenly and put it back at the sheath at his waist. He adjusted his tunic before adding, “Enjoy the rest of the feast.”

Oberyn didn’t have to turn around to know Jaime was giving him a look of death as he adjusted the cloak that the Prince’s grip had wrinkled. He knew Jaime was probably already planning his retaliation, but for now, it was clear that you were under the protection of Dorne. 

–


	8. Young God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally happening, y’all. Ellaria has to share you and she’s okay with that. Oberyn asks you once more if you’ll go to Dorne and you give him a more definitive answer…repeatedly.

After the feast, Jaime had kept his distance from you. When Ellaria had walked you back into the hall, your cousin was marching through the great Hall making a direct line for his sister, Cersei. His hand was pressed to his neck and when he pulled her to the side the two of them exchanged a heated conversation. Cersei jerked her brother’s hand away from his throat and his fingertips were very obviously stained red–was that blood? Ellaria must have noticed it too for she had given your hand a squeeze and hurried out of the hall to look for Oberyn. 

As you reflected on that night you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. There was no doubt in your mind that Oberyn had been the one to cause Jaime to bleed. Violence as a result of your actions was not something you were a stranger to, but it had always been in defense of the Lannisters as a whole–Oberyn’s actions were in defense of you, and you alone. 

That morning you had found yourself in the castle library alone with your thoughts. A few of the castle maesters took notes, pulled old tomes off of the shelves, and the scritching of their ink quills was a gentle metronome of noise that kept you present to your surroundings. The ache in your chest from the day before had lessened considerably, Ellaria’s words still echoing in your mind as the feel of her lips felt like a whisper against your own even though it was long gone. She cared about you–deeply. It was an intensity that you had not known in a very long time but it was not at all unwelcome. The only doubt that lingered was if Oberyn’s feelings were as strong as his paramour’s. You didn’t doubt the Prince’s attraction to your body, or the fact that he enjoyed your company, but did his feelings mirror hers? After seeing what he did to Jaime, you were starting to believe it. 

The only thing that hindered your revelation was Elia. The Dornish princess and Oberyn’s beloved sister that lay cold in the ground because of your family. How could he see past that? How could he not share the same feelings as half of the people in Westeros–the only good Lannister, is a dead Lannister. You needed to talk to him, ask him for yourself, but how could you approach such a thing without causing him any more pain?

You pulled a few books from the shelf and held them in a stack against your breast before taking them to the nearest, most secluded table. The alcove didn’t have any windows, so with another candle you passed the flame to two more sticks and positioned them in a line to provide adequate light in order to see the words. The maesters didn’t pay any attention as you moved your skirts to the side and sat down, opening one of the tomes. The rain pattered gently against the stone walls of the castle and it was the perfect kind of day to stay inside, but you did miss your daily walk in the gardens, even more so since you had started having accompaniment. The moment the rain let up, you would go into the city and see Oberyn at the brothel. 

“I thought I might find you here,” a deep voice said quietly and, despite its best intentions, the noise made you jump. It was almost as if your thoughts had summoned him. 

Oberyn leaned in the archway of the alcove with his arms crossed, a small smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. His green tunic made his olive skin seem richer somehow. Those dark brown eyes matching the shimmering tiger’s eyes that lined the golden necklace that draped down his bare chest. He truly was every bit the Prince that they said he was and you weren’t sure if his gaze would ever stop bringing a flush of heat to your face. This was a man you had seen fully nude, and yet just his presence was enough to make your body long for him. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized as he pushed from the wall and moved to lean against the table and look down at you.

“It’s okay,” you said, closing the book in front of you and looking up at him with a smile. “I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“About?” he prompted and the word spilled from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

“You.”

He chuckled abruptly. The rich timbre of the noise came from deep within his chest and it made you look away from him.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t,” he interjected, putting the knuckle of his first finger under your chin and making you look at him. “I was thinking of you as well. That’s why I’m here.” He moved his finger from your face and you immediately missed the touch. “About yesterday–”

"You kept your distance at the feast,” you said. “Why?”

“I thought I might be–” he paused, seeming to think of the right words to express himself. “Unable to keep my anger in control once I saw that…up close.” He nodded to your cheek and you understood. 

“It’ll heal.” You said softly and his eyes darkened.

“That’s not the point." 

“Did you bleed Jaime?” you asked, unable to stop yourself and the sudden question made him look at you with mild surprise. 

“Yes.” His answer was simple, like there was no shame in trying to lie, because he held no shame for the action itself. “I simply wanted to talk to him.”

"Talk?” You grinned and he mirrored you.

“Yes–talk.”

“I thought so.“ You bit your lip and nodded.

“And how does that make you feel, my love?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It’s horrid of me to say, but it makes me happy,” you looked down at your hands in your lap and shook your head. “It was something I wanted to do but couldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked and you laughed bitterly. 

“Why not?” You scoffed. “He’s Captain of the king’s guard. He’s family. He–”

“None of those excuse his actions.” Oberyn said and his tone was laced with venom. He brushed the backs of his knuckles against the blackening bruise on the apple of your cheek. It looked worse than yesterday and you could sense the restraint in his hand, not wanting to cause you any discomfort. 

“I don’t know a single person in King’s Landing that would agree with you.”

“Then perhaps that’s what is wrong with King’s Landing.”

You couldn’t help but agree with that statement. There were many things wrong with King’s Landing. But when you thought of it, Casterly Rock was not any better. You had no voice here. Despite the lion behind your back, no one cared what you wanted, what you thought, or how you felt. But the man in front of you did. And you were starting to suspect that that would be enough. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about Elia?” you asked quietly, looking up at him.

Oberyn’s shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh. “It was neither the place nor the time.”

“But my family is responsible for her death.”

“The Mountain is responsible for her death. Tywin Lannister is responsible for her death.” He looked at you sternly and you held his gaze even though you desperately wanted to turn away. “I do not feel you had anything to do with either of them, or the death of my sister.”

“But–”

“Elia and I were very close,” he interrupted you, looking over your shoulder and into the rain in contemplation. “She was kind. She was gentle. She was a good mother to her children and a good wife to her husband–and I have no doubt that if given the chance she would have made an excellent queen.” He turned back to look at you, “It would be an insult to her memory if I held her death or the death of my niece and nephew over someone innocent of such horrors.”

His hand was warm in yours as you slid your fingers over it and squeezed gently. You debated on saying what Jaime had said the day prior, but the word conquest had been a painful thorn in your mind that you couldn’t ease. 

“Jaime said that I was a conquest. A trophy for the Martells–for you–to hang on the wall as a form of revenge. That if I went to Dorne, it would be easy for someone to make an example of me, like Elia.” 

You could tell the effect your words had on him. Your voice shook just speaking them into existence, but the horror on Oberyn’s face made you feel embarrassed for even entertaining the thought that Jaime could be right. Your eyes burned, your throat tightened and you started to look away from him but he grabbed your chin firmly, bending his knees until he was eye level with you sitting in the chair. 

“Do you believe such a thing?”

“No.” You shook your head and you saw his shoulders slump, relaxing at the knowledge that Jaime’s poisonous thoughts hadn’t turned you against him. 

“Women are not objects to be put on a shelf or a wall. You are warm, soft, and your heart beats just like mine does–whether you are a Princess or a servant, you deserve to be cherished and I can promise you in Dorne that will be true as long as my family sits on its throne.” 

“You always say such beautiful things,” you said softly as you watched his hand move from your chin, down your neck, to rest gently over your heart at the top of your breast.

“How could I not?–in the presence of such beauty.” He grinned and you looked away from him, feeling foolish for the smile that broke through your lips. Oberyn Martell was just as much the poet as he was the warrior, and it was getting harder and harder to resist such a combination. 

“What do we do now?” you asked, the smile faltered slightly. 

“What do you want, my lioness?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. You started to open your mouth to respond but he cut you off. “Without thinking about Jaime, or this place, or the gods-forsaken Lannisters. Do you want to go to Dorne? With me? With Ellaria?”

You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of his hand on your chest. It wasn’t possible that he didn’t feel the way your heart sped at the thought, the way the pounding against your ribs increased at the idea that this week with the two of them didn’t have to end. The idea that this lonely, conventional life didn’t have to continue for the rest of your days filled you with such elation that you wanted to scream. Your eyes opened back up as you strengthened your resolve and finally gave him an answer.

“Yes.” You swallowed hard and repeated yourself. “Yes, I want to go to Dorne. I wil–I will go.”

His lips crushed against yours before you could say anything else and the force of him rocked the chair slightly. His large hands cupped your face and pulled you to your feet, kicking the chair out of the way so he could push you back against the stone. The cold hardness at your back was a contrast to the warm man in front and your body sought him out like a flame surrounded by darkness. 

“Say it again,” he said, breathlessly against your lips. “(Y/n) Lannister, will you let me take you to Dorne?”

“Yes,” you hesitated a second, still cupping his face and rubbing the pad of your thumbs along the line of his beard and jaw. Throwing your caution to the wind, you added. “My Prince.”

Oberyn cursed quietly before leaning back down to capture your mouth with his own. The words hung in the air like a forbidden sacrement, especially when whispered in a place like King’s Landing. They were a treason against King Robert, and you didn’t care. The man in front of you was more of a Prince than Robert would ever be. He was a better ruler than Tywin, than Jaime, than any of the poor excuses for men to sit on the throne that you had been forced to bow to since you were old enough to stand. No more. 

He moved his lips to your neck and started to suck the flesh of your pulse point between his teeth. It drew a soft sound from you and it made him grin against your skin. Your hands started undoing the tunic at his waist, pulling on his belt as he grabbed fistfuls of your dress and started rucking it up around your waist. 

“We can’t do this here,” you said, not sounding convincing in the slightest. 

“I was a maester once–before I became bored of it,” he mumbled against your neck. “Trust me when I say, if they sneak a peek, it will be the most wonderful sight they have seen in a very long time.” 

It made you smile and shake your head as you continued to unlace the front of his pants. This was his talent. This undeniable magnetism that he seemed to hold over you. It made you bold, made you feel like you could do things you had never dreamed of. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you liked the rush. 

His cock was heavy in your hand, a warm weight that finally came free as you finished with the laces. You stroked him gently and he groaned quietly against the hollow of your neck. Oberyn was not a small man, not in personality or knowledge, nor in cunning or skill, and definitely not when it came to what you currently caressed with your fingers. 

"I want to fuck you,” he said and the admission stopped your breath. He had held back the other night in the brothel, made sure you and Ellaria received plenty of time to explore one another. You thought he may have worried that his passion would scare you away, but that fear no longer existed. Now he stood in front of you like a man lost at sea, and being inside you was his only means of safe passage home. 

“Then fuck me,” you breathed against his lips as you continued to palm at his cock until it was solid and firm within your grasp. 

With a growl against your lips, his large hands reached around and gripped the backs of your thighs, digging into your flesh as he hoisted you up and onto the table. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to push your dress out of his way, allowing the head of his cock to find your dripping core. Your hands never left his face, not wanting to relinquish his lips or the feeling of his beard against your palms. He indulged your need to devour his mouth, blindly angling himself so he could coat his length in your slick before pushing inside of you with a groan. 

“Oberyn–” you gasped, breaking the kiss as your mouth fell open in silent surprise. He gave you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, feeling the way your cunt tightened around him. He nosed your cheek gently as his arms wrapped around your waist and he started to thrust. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for awhile,” he said, jerking you forward to meet his hips, slowly stretching you to accommodate his girth. “The thought of this sweet,” another thrust. “Tight cunt.” And another. “Has kept me awake every night." 

”Fuck,“ you cursed quietly against the side of his face as he pulled you flush against his chest and whispered his thoughts against your skin. 

"I vow to worship your body with my mouth, hands, and cock, every night once we’re in Dorne.” He growled as he gripped your curls and pulled your head back to look at him. 

“Promise?” You whispered eagerly as the head of his cock met the end of your cervix. It made you feel so unbelievably full, an exquisite burn low in your body that turned to pleasure as he gave you short thrusts directly over the right spot. The feeling stole your breath, made you momentarily lose your train of thought as you begged him. “Right there. Oh gods, right there.”

“I promise,” he said with a soft sigh as he traced the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “Open.” His tone was gentle but the word was a command–one you happily obeyed. 

He slipped his thumb into your mouth and when you sucked it he bit his lip and groaned. He praised you as you covered it generously with your own saliva just like he wanted. You thought of the way he praised you that first time, leaning against his chest with Ellaria between your legs. And how since then you were desperate to hear him tell you what a good girl you were. 

His hand dived beneath the soft fabric of your skirts and his thumb expertly found the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. He pressed the pad of his thumb against it, drawing a gasp from you that made him grin. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and just the effect it had. And if his goal was to make you fall apart at the seams, he was succeeding. 

He rolled his finger in circles against you as his hips bounced you against the table, deep, deeper. The feeling was bringing you closer to the edge. You felt as if you were standing at the top of a cliff and your body desperately wanted you to fling yourself off of the edge and into the abyss to be consumed–by lust, by pleasure, by the prince himself.

He must have felt you tighten around his cock because he pulled you close again, the bodice of your dress pressing tightly against his bare chest. His forehead rested against yours as he slowed his desperate thrusts in favor of deeper, more pointed ones, hitting the end of you. So deep. Absolutely stretched and full of him you felt like you couldn’t take much more. 

“Come for me, my lioness,” he said, voice hoarse with exertion. “Come around my cock,” he grunted against the side of your face as he put his hand back in your hair. “Come for your prince.”

His words were wanton and filthy, but at the same time they promised to cherish everything you gladly gave him as he commanded. Your orgasm took you in a rush of heat from your core to the end of your limbs. Your body seemed to be hyper-aware of his cock deep inside of you, his fingers in your hair and digging into your hip, the feeling of his beard under your fingers as his large noses pressed against your cheek. You wanted to call his name, to let the whole castle know the things he made your body feel and as if he knew, he kissed you hard and let the words die on your tongue and your moans be swallowed by his own mouth. 

As he felt your cunt flutter around him, fingers holding desperately to his dark hair, he slowed his thrusts. His eyes asked what his lips couldn’t. Would you let him finish inside you? Take him fully and completely as he offered. With a nod, you dug your heels into the back of his hips and kept him close. 

“Take me. Take–yes. Yes. Fuck–Oberyn!” you closed your eyes as he sped back up and buried his face in your neck. Take you. Two small words held so much meaning. Take your body. Take you to Dorne. Take you away from the lonely, desolate, conventional world around you. He could have it all and the willingness at which you gave it to him should have scared you to death. 

He filled you with a final thrust and a drawn out groan that you knew echoed through the stone halls of the library. He shamelessly said your name in the height of ecstasy, his large hands fisting the material of your skirts as he kissed a path back up your throat and looked at you with a pleased grin. 

“Keep saying my name in that tone,” he paused, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth to accentuate his words. “And I will be forced to make you a fucking princess of Dorne." 

"I’ve always thought I would look good in a crown,” you whispered, keeping your face close to his own. Your boldness stirred by the fact that he was still inside of you and holding on to your body like his soul depended on it. 

“Then you shall have it,” he growled his words as he let a hand come up to cup the side of your face. 

As he tenderly kissed you in the alcove, the two of you seemed to be alone with only the books and the rain existing in your space of bliss. You believed him. You believed every word he said, and it made your heart race. You knelt at his throne and we’re ready to be consumed by the sand storm that was Oberyn and Ellaria. Perhaps you already were. Such an all encompassing feeling left you blind to the pair of green eyes that watched you and the prince from around the nearest stone pillar with malcontent.


	9. You Should See Me In A Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you? (Shout out to my wife @vaxxildan and @phoenixhalliwell to be the only ones to message me and guess correctly who was watching them in part 8.) In the words of my wife, “Because I fucking know you, and know how your mind works.” #accurate (You are getting a lot of canon-lore dropped on you, it is not needed for you to watch the show/read the books, I will explain everything as needed, I will also delve more into Oberyn’s Exile from Dorne, which is canon, but if you don’t want to spoil yourself for other things by looking it up, I WILL bring it up again, or feel free to send me an ask.)

His lips found her neck like they had a hundred times before. Soft, warm, enticing him as he slid his hand down the front of her bodice, standing behind her in the sunlit room. It had been almost a week since he had been inside of her due to their presence being constantly required at each and every feast–hers beside her fat boar of a husband, and his guarding said boar. So close, yet so far away, as if she was teasing him with every subtle glance.

Before he could continue she reached back and put her hand on his chest and gave him a firm shove and an annoyed grunt.

“Get off.”

He took a step back and ran a hand through his blond hair, getting it out of his face. A bitter laugh fell from his lips as he shook his head. “What is wrong with you?”

Cersei Lannister stood up from the table abruptly, and moved her red dress out of the way so she could stalk to the small cart on the other side of the room. She poured a glass of wine and took a large drink, draining most of the liquid. She kept a tight grip on the glass as she crossed her arms and turned to him. “You. You are what’s wrong with me.”

“Me??” Jaime put a hand to his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you.” Cersei confirmed, refilling her glass and moving back to the larger table in the middle of the bedroom. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“What have I done?” He snarled and moved opposite of her so he could see her face.

“It’s more a question of what you haven’t done.”

“Cersei–”

“Father gave you one job, and you managed to do the opposite of what he asked–”

“Is this about our cousin? (Y/n)?” He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up slightly. “She doesn’t matter–”

“She does ever since she has gained the favor of the fucking Prince of Dorne.” Cersei said and Jaime continued to disagree.

“Oberyn is a nobody. Doran holds the throne and Doran’s son after him. At best Oberyn is third in line, and to me–”

“The Red Viper. A nobody?” Cersei threw her head back and laughed bitterly. “Is that why you were happy to let him put a knife to your throat at the feast? Don’t be a fool, brother!”

Jaime sneered and looked away from her. His hand moved unconsciously up to the small scratch on the side of his neck where the man in question had drawn blood. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Oberyn was a dangerous man with a deadly reputation and thinking anything other than that was indeed foolish. But Jaime had a knack for letting his anger mask his ability to see reason.

Cersei stood up and leaned in to glare at her twin. “He bested you.” Jamie set his jaw firmly and returned her gaze with just as much intensity as she continued. “The Martells continue to insult our house, our father, and you’re okay with that?”

“If you had married Rhaegar instead of Elia like father intended, then you’d be dead.” Jaime said flatly, not wanting to think of what his reality would have been if she would have met the fate of Oberyn’s sister.

“Perhaps,” Cersei said curtly, standing back up straight. “But now he oversteps. He pulls (y/n) into his bed with the rest of his whores and thinks we will just allow it?”

“Do you agree with father?” Jaime said, finally taking a seat. “Do you think he’s using her?”

“For her cunt, yes,” Cersei moved to look out the window and twisted her hands together in thought. “I saw plenty of proof of that in the Library. He told her he would make her a princess of Dorne.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “As if such a title holds any worth.”

Jaime shrugged and picked up her abandoned wine glass, swirling it a bit before taking a drink. “They are known for their fierce women. But such a thing wouldn’t be his to give.”

“That’s exactly why Father thinks Doran is behind this.” Cersei agreed.

Jaime laughed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Doran can control his brother just about as well as Robert controls you.”

“Well, he did exile him.” Cersei stated.

“And then welcomed him back with open arms.” It had been such a scandal when news had reached the capital of the Red Viper being turned from his own palace at the behest of his older brother. If war broke out in Dorne it would have solved a lot of problems for the seven kingdoms, since the savages of the sand refused to bend the knee to the iron throne. When his exile ended prematurely everyone knew it for the farce that it really was–nothing more than a formality for his transgressions against House Yronwood.

“Regardless,” Cersei stated, shaking her head and looking back at him. “You were supposed to stop it.”

“And what else would you like me to do?” Jaime raised his arms in exasperation. “I dragged her out of that whore house, I told her what Father had done to Elia–”

“Don’t say that outloud!” Cersei hissed but he continued.

“Oh, everyone knows it.” There was a pause as Jaime tapped his fingers against the table in thought. “What would you have me try next? Tie her to her own bed? Lock her in the sept?”

“Perhaps.”

“And how do you think our Dornish Prince would take that?” Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Our best chance was to turn her against him and that isn’t working. Let her go,” he gestured out the window. “Doran’s people will rip her to shreds the moment they see our sigil.”

“I’m not so sure,” Cersei shook her head.

She started to walk around him and he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his lap gracefully. One arm wrapped around her waist to hold her steady as the other grabbed her jaw as he pressed his lips to her and shoved his tongue in her mouth unceremoniously. Her hands went to his face out of habit as she moaned softly, giving in for the briefest of moments before shoving him away from her.

“Jaime!” She scolded. “If you focused half as much on what Father asked of you as you did about where you stick your cock, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”

“Well, from what I remember, you happen to like where I stick my cock.” He nipped the shell of her ear as he grabbed a fistful of her white blonde curls.

“Enough,” she growled as she untangled her limbs from his grasp and avoided his lips coming in for another kiss.

“Where are you going?” He called as she straightened her skirts and crossed the room swiftly, heading for the door.

“To finish what you started.” She said without even looking back at him. She jerked open the bedroom door and almost collided with her other sibling. Tyrion Lannister’s head came barely to her waist, his hand poised as if he was about to knock.

“Cersei.” He nodded his head in greeting and she grit her teeth, glaring down at him with a look of disgust.

“Were you listening to us?” She sneered and he shook his head.

“No, I just–”

“Oh, leave him alone, sweet sister. He’s looking for me.” Jaime called from across the room ignoring the tone by which she greeted their own flesh and blood.

“Out of my way,” Cersei looked down at the smaller man and squared her shoulders before shoving him to the side and marching passed him in the corridor.

“You know,” Tyrion said, watching her disappear around the corner before looking to Jaime and walking into the room. “She’s so charming when she wants to be.”

Jaime chuckled as he finished the rest of the wine in his glass and pulled out the chair next to him for his brother to sit. He grabbed the pitcher and another goblet and allowed himself to roll the tension out of his neck. If Cersei wanted to take over ruining Oberyn’s ridiculous plan of taking you back with him to Dorne, then so be it.

–

“No, no, no,” you said quickly as Oberyn grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him. You let out a yelp as you fell flat on your stomach, the plan of crawling away from him foiled by his quick reflexes and the slippery silk sheets. “Oberyn!”

“You’ll have to be swifter than that, my love.” His voice was playful and you could hear the smile on his face long before you laid eyes on it. “The Red Viper is known for being quick.”

“Oh, is he?” you laughed and surrendered. “I heard he was dangerous.”

“Absolutely…” He flipped you over, smiling in return as you looked up at him. With your hair fanned out on the pillows, he stopped his quest to tickle your sides and propped himself up on his forearms so he could lean down and capture your lips. “He is also deadly.” Another kiss. “Cunning.” Another. “And devilishly handsome.”

Your fingers carded through his hair as your eyes slipped shut and you kissed him back, a soft moan dying on your lips as he swallowed it whole. Despite trying to remain composed enough to think this through, you found yourself falling for the man in your arms quicker than expected. He was charming, he was untamed and dangerous, and all of this paired with his fire for life was equally matched by the woman at his side. Who, if you were being honest with yourself, had a firm hold on your heart as well.

Oberyn broke the kiss long enough to look across the room at the other woman that was sorting through a rather large trunk. “Ellaria.” He called gently and she ignored him.

“Ellaria,” you sang in a sweet voice and he laughed softly, moving to bury his face against your throat and kiss up your neck.

She looked then. A kind smile coming over her face as you wiggled your arms out from under the man on top of you and held them outstretched to her instead. You beckoned her to you with the most enticing expression you could muster.

“Oh, is that how you get your way now, Oberyn?” She said, crossing her arms under her breasts and looking pointedly at the man in question who continued his path of affection down your clavicle. “You know that after all of these years, I can ignore you, so you have this beautiful creature try to entice me?”

“She’s onto us,” Oberyn mumbled between the valley of your breasts as he nosed the loose fabric of your dress out of his way, baring your skin to the cool air.

The action made you giggle as you continued to hold your arms out to the woman in front of you. “Come lay with me,” you purred, doing your best to pout your bottom lip and she rolled her eyes.

It was easy to laugh with them. Easy to tease and to feel the inner peace of knowing that whatever this was between the three of you wasn’t going to end when the sun came up tomorrow. The dread of losing their company and affection had lurked in the back of your mind  
all week, but had since disappeared. It made you feel brave, emboldened your actions at the thought that perhaps you really did belong with the two of them and this wasn’t just a short lived infatuation brought on by summer wine and lust. You called her name again and let one of your hands drop to the back of Oberyn’s head as his mouth closed gently around your nipple. The action made you gasp and you tried to stay focused as his deep brown eyes rolled up to meet yours before biting down gently.

“Someone has to finish packing our things,” she said, picking up another of her dresses and carefully tucking it away into the corner of the trunk. Her eyes flicked up and quickly back down, finding it increasingly hard to continue her task as another sweet gasp fell from your mouth when Oberyn added his free hand to your breast that was unattended. 

“You know,” Oberyn said, speaking to your skin as he adjusted himself against your hip. “We do have servants for that.”

“I prefer to pack my own things,” Ellaria said, adjusting the clothes in such a way that they carefully cradled a few unopened bottles of wine. “I like things a certain way.”

Oberyn knew better than to tease his paramour about her desire to be the one to arrange their things. It wasn’t that she was untrusting or even that she was vain. Ellaria Sand came from nothing, was very accustomed to being nothing–until a Prince set his gaze upon her. As the whispers said throughout Dorne once their love became public, she was almost a whore, now she is almost a princess.

The prince raised up on his arms and gave your lips a chaste kiss. “To be continued?”

You nodded and let your fingertips brush gently across his cheek as he stood and made his way over to the dark-haired woman.

“Stop,” he said, keeping his voice in that gentle tone that you realized he only used when speaking to the two of you. “I’ll do it. Go–” he nodded his head back towards the bed where you had rolled to your side and were propping your head up on your arm. “Go, be with our lioness.”

He grinned and slid his hand down the soft fabric of her light blue dress and gave her ass a firm squeeze before pushing her in the direction of the bed. Such an action was not lost on you, a man, no, better yet a prince, stepping in on such a menial task for one of his women. Indeed King’s Landing was no place for a man like Oberyn Martell.

Ellaria relinquished control over the careful stowing of their belongings and joined you on the bed. She cupped your face and kissed you softly before moving to lay her head in your lap with a hand over her eyes.

“What is it?” You asked, worry lacing your words as you traced her hair line with your finger. Seeing such a fierce woman like Ellaria Sand seeming troubled and unsure made your hands ache with the need to comfort her, to fix whatever was wrong and return her to her normal self.

“Ellaria hates the sea.” Oberyn stated, putting another glass bottle in the trunk. “This happens every time we travel somewhere that requires a ship.”

“More like the sea hates me,” Ellaria said, moving her hand and sighing. “I adore its beauty and yet it insists on making me restless and incredibly sick.”

You stroked her face and pushed her hair back gently with a kind smile. “There are plenty of herbs that can help with that. I’ll check my notes and pick some things before we leave?”

“That’s very sweet,” she looked up at you and leaned her cheek into your hand. She took your hand away from her face and kissed your knuckles gently. “Dorne is going to love you.”

“Are they? I’m not so sure,” you bit your lip and let your smile fall. “I meant to ask but–” you tried to steady your voice and not let them know how much you had been thinking about such things. “But what happens when I step off of that boat and people know I’m a Lannister?”

“What do you mean?” Oberyn paused what he was doing to look back at the bed. “Nothing happens because I allowed it.”

“Oberyn,” you dropped your shoulders and looked at him with exasperation. “Not everyone is going to feel that way.”

“They will because their prince feels that way.”

“I’m being serious,” you pushed him, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. “What will Doran say? Have you told him yet?”

Oberyn paused and bit his lip lightly as he resumed packing and that was answer enough, but he still answered. “I have not sent word to my brother, no. But I assure you, it will be fine.”

“And what if it isn’t?”

Ellaria grabbed your hand gently and brought it to her chest, giving it a squeeze. “My sweet one, if Doran was alright with the likes of me moving into the palace, he will not be upset when he learns of you.”

“But you’re from Dorne,” you looked down at her.

“The world doesn’t look fondly on bastards, even when they are standing next to a Lannister.” She smiled, her words an obvious jest.

“Don’t try that on me. You’ve both said that Dorne does not look down on bastard children, that as the product of passion they deserve to be honored.” You looked pointedly at Oberyn as you quoted his own words back at him.

“There was a time when my father tried to offer his children to the Lannisters for marriage.” Oberyn said with a shrug, not meeting your gaze. “If the idea was acceptable once, I am sure it can be accepted again.”

“Wait,” you sat up on your knees as Ellaria moved her head from your lap. “All of his children? Meaning you–”

“Elia and I, yes,” Oberyn nodded. “Doran was already married so he was not up for negotiations.”

“And who did he offer you to?” You swung your legs off of the bed as your stomach started to feel nauseated. Oberyn closed one of the trunks and latched it, seeming to not hear you but you knew he was playing it off. He picked up his glass from the table and took a large drink as you got up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Oberyn. Answer me. Who did your father want you to marry?”

He cleared his throat and finally looked down at you. “Cersei.”

“What!” you exclaimed, knowing your eyes were wider than they should have been. At one point in time, the ruler of Dorne had promised your now lover to your wretched bitch of a cousin. You knew she held disdain for you but if she had any desire to marry the man in front of you it would have tripled by now.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waves it away with a flourish of his hand. “Tywin dismissed the offer almost instantly and said the only man good enough for his daughter was Rhaegar–and so began the animosity between the Lannisters and the Martells, because we both know how that ended.”

You rubbed your forehead with the tips of your fingers as your head started to ache with too much thought. The idea of a man like Oberyn with a woman like Cersei was not even imaginable. And the fact that Cersei was denied both a Dornish prince and warrior such as Rhaegar must have been even more insulting now that she shared the bed of Robert Baratheon.

“For the best, my love,” Ellaria said from the bed looking at the two of you. “Such passion would be wasted on a cold heart.”

Oberyn’s lips tilted up on the edges as he looked at his paramour before turning back to you. He put his head on your chin and made you look up at him. “You are not Cersei. Arriving in my brother’s palace with you on my arm will be much easier to convince him that it is a good thing. The diplomat in him might see it as an olive branch of sorts.”

“Yes, except this particular olive branch,” you gestured to your body. “Is leaving against the direct wishes of Tywin Lannister.”

“That is a small detail,” Oberyn grinned and leaned in a little. “My brother cares about what Tywin thinks about as much as I do.”

“Which is not much,” Ellaria laughed, leaning back against the pillows.

“And the people of Dorne? What will they think?” You lowered your voice as he moved into the intimate space around you.

“Dorne has always been in the control of rulers who adore their people. They have trusted the Martells with their safety and interests for hundreds of years. We continue to not succumb to the savagery of the iron throne, and because of that, our people remain happy and free.” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip gently and licked his own lips in anticipation. “What are our house words, my lioness?”

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered, looking down at his mouth for a moment before looking back up.

“Exactly,” he said, closing the gap between the two of you and kissing you firmly.

His hand curved around the dip in your waist as he pulled you flush against the front of his body. His passion seemed to be ignited by hearing those words come out of your mouth. You both knew you weren’t a Martell, but hearing you say their motto made him feel as if you had betrayed some unwritten rule. The significance of such a thing wasn’t lost on you and it made you return the kiss with equal enthusiasm. 

“Stay with us tonight,” he pulled back just enough to whisper before reclaiming your mouth again.

“I need to go get my things,” you said back in the same tone.

“I’ll send my men to collect everything you need.” His arms tightened around you and you thought it over as the tempting offer that he meant it to be.

“The quicker I pack, the quicker we can leave in the morning.”

“She has a point, Oberyn,” Ellaria said, balancing her head on her hand. “When we get home, you’re going to have to let the poor thing come up for air once in a while.”

“Something tells me she doesn’t mind. Do you, (y/n)?”

“Not at all, my prince,” you grinned and it turned into a giggle as he bent his knees and scooped you up, taking you back to the bed before allowing you both to tumble in beside Ellaria. You knew that your arrival in Dorne would not be as easy as Oberyn assured you it would be. As a Lannister, nothing in your life had ever been effortless, but the difference was the two people now choosing to stand at your side. Most of your week with the two of them had been leap after leap of blind faith–what was one more?

–

Gathering your skirts up in your hands allowed you to run up the stairs to your bedroom as fast as your heart demanded. Ever since leaving the brothel a permanent smile had been painted across your lips and it felt good. The only thing that stood between you and Dorne was a packed trunk and a night’s sleep. The happiness that you felt in your chest made you blind to the fact that the door to your chambers was already open.

You opened the door and stumbled slightly in surprise at the sight of the silhouette on the opposite side of the room.

“You know it’s dangerous for a woman to be out so late? Especially in unsavory places like the whore houses of King’s Landing.”

You came to a halt staring at the back of your cousin standing in the dark and looking out your window. “Cersei?”

Her long blonde hair whispered gracefully over her shoulders as she faced you, waiting for you to light the candle at the bedside before speaking. “Sweet cousin, I am still your queen.”

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face. “Your grace–”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a such a big journey planned?” She lowered her gaze at you and you wanted to look away but you held her eyes in silence. When you did not respond, she continued. “Do you know what he has planned for you in the sands? Do you really think he will make you a ‘fucking princess of Dorne’?”

The breath caught in your throat. How did she know he had said that? There was no one in the library that day that Oberyn took you on the table. Or was there? You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Your grace, I didn’t–”

“I’m not a fool, (y/n). I believe my brother advised you to stay away from Oberyn Martell and his whore.” She took a few steps towards you and you stepped back to maintain the distance.

“I’m not a child–”

“Do you think I will stand by while you continue to spread your legs for someone who has spent his life disgracing our family?”

“I don’t give a damn about this family, just as it has never given a damn about me.” You snapped, curtly and the shock on her face was worth any consequences that may follow. You weren’t sure what had just snapped somewhere deep inside your subconscious but you had had enough. The two of you stared at one another, the only sounds in the room was the gentle rise and fall of breathing. She smiled, but it was unfeeling and did not reach her eyes.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” She crossed the room towards the open door and two of the King’s Guard that you didn’t even hear approach or notice flanked the entryway. She held out her hand to one of the men and they placed a large, brass key in her palm. She looked over her shoulder at you with disappointment written on her face, she flashed a mock pout of her lips before saying, “I will send word to the Prince that you changed your mind.”

“Wait–” You tried to cross the room but she slammed the heavy oak door before you could stop her. It added a finality to her words that made your stomach fall to the floor in fear.

“I want one of you on this door at all times until tomorrow when you hear from me.” She said as she twisted the key in the lock firmly and put it in the pocket of her dress.

“Yes, your grace.” One of the guards said flatly.

She turned to the other guard and addressed him separately. “If Oberyn Martell, that whore that calls herself a sand snake, or anyone wearing his sigil try and come into this castle–kill them on sight.”

Her words felt like someone had stolen your breath. You put your hands against the door and slapped them on the wood repeatedly. “CERSEI!” you screamed her name, overcome with the desire to shove Oberyn’s dagger through her chest yourself. Your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“My queen,” the guard sounded hesitant. “Such orders should come from King Robert–”

“As his wife, my orders hold just as much weight as his,” she snarled. “If you feel otherwise I can have you reassigned to a less desirable duty. Is that what you want?”

“No, my queen,” he shook his head and she nodded.

“Good.”

“Cersei!” you screamed again, feeling your eyes start to burn with tears of desperation. “Don’t do this!” No one answered you as you heard the sound of her shoes fading down the stone steps and the hallway beyond your bedroom fell silent.

Pressing your back to the door, your hand went to your mouth as a sob fell from your lips. How could you have been so foolish? Oberyn had asked you to stay, had offered to have his men accompany you to fetch your things, and you had denied him. You had been foolish to think that this would be easy, that the Lannisters would let you leave without a fight. Family or not, the Lannisters did not give away what was rightfully theirs.

If they believed Cersei’s lies, you knew it would cut both the Prince and Ellaria to the core. And if they didn’t, the thought of Oberyn coming to get you was almost worse than him believing you no longer wished to go with him. If Cersei was anything, it was that she followed through on her threats. And if he came to the castle and she had him killed–it would be your fault.


	10. Start a War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We had to have just a little drama but of course I would never keep our main three from going to Dorne. Oberyn knows perfectly well that there will be consequences to his actions--he does not care. We are officially in double digits people?? This is unreal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary/Author's Note: TWO MONTHS. Two fucking months Oberyn was silent in my head and y’all suffered for it. I just knew everyone would stop caring about this fic because I let you all down but I posted that it was coming back and my inbox and DMs have been BLOWING UP all fucking night. I love you guys and I am very emotional. Enjoy.

The waves crashed against the rocks with as much gentleness as was possible for the crags of King’s Landing. The air was cold, but the sky a crisp blue as the sun started to peak over the water. It was a good day for sailing, a good day for travel, and most importantly a good day for going home. Oberyn leaned on one of the posts on the boardwalk leading out into the waters as he watched his soldiers ready the ship. He held the slip of parchment in his fist, torn between crumpling it, re-reading it for the hundredth time, or throwing it into the ocean. 

_‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’_

Six words. After this week was that all they meant to you? The note was signed at the bottom with your name but he couldn’t believe it. His guts churned with the idea that what the three of you had shared in the brothel could be summed up in such a small note. He crushed it in his fist again and swallowed the lump in his throat as he tossed it into the sea. He watched it float down to the surface before getting swallowed by a wave and wished it was the sorrow he felt instead.

“My love?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder as Ellaria came to stand behind him and put her hand on his sleeve, the other gripped his bicep as she bowed her head to kiss his shoulder. Her eyes were red and despite the stern, stoic way she held her body he knew she had spent most of the morning with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She had put most of her energy into ignoring their existence, and he didn’t dare bring attention to them.

“I thought she’d come,” Oberyn said flatly as he looked back out onto the horizon.

“So did I,” she whispered against his cloak.

He knew it had been quick, a passion spurred on by spite and excitement, but he thought despite the amount of time, there was a certain kinship between you. The idea of not belonging in one place, of wanting to see what wonders the world held--they could give that to you. That and so much more. All it required of you was a leap of faith and yet you were choosing to stay with the Lannisters.

Looking back to the city, looming in the twilight of the morning, it was as if he was waiting for you to come running over the hill. If it was possible, he would stand here and wait as long as he had to.

_"I vow to worship your body with my mouth, hands, and cock, every night once we're in Dorne." “Promise?”_

He had made you that promise against that table in the library with his cock buried inside of you and you had called him your prince. Had it all been for nothing? Was it just a pretty sentiment said in the height of ecstasy? The thought made a twinge of pain blossom in his chest and he pushed it deep into the background of his subconscious. If you truly didn’t want to go to Dorne, if you didn’t want Ellaria, if you didn’t want.. _him_ \--he wanted to hear it come from your own lips.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he rubbed his beard in thought. “Who did you say brought the note?”

“I don’t know,” Ellaria answered honestly. “Your men said the messenger was wearing Lannister colors.”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Oberyn stood up straight and walked towards the plank ramp that was leading up to his ship. He stopped the captain of his guard with a gesture of his hand and the man stood at attention with his hand on his scimitar. “Change of plans.”

“But, my prince--” the man looked startled as he faced him. “We’re almost ready to set sail.”

“Then you’ll be ready when I return.” Oberyn held up his hand and stopped another of the guards from walking one of the horses up the ramp.

“Return?” Ellaria spoke up and turned Oberyn to face her instead. “What are you doing?”

“She didn’t write that, Ellaria--” 

“Oberyn--”

“Someone else did.”

“Listen to yourself--”

“My gut is never wrong. She’s in trouble--”

“Oberyn!” Ellaria grabbed both of his upper arms tightly, digging her fingers into the fabric of his yellow sleeves as she fought the urge to shake him. “I thought she would come, as well. I’m heartbroken that she--” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “That she doesn’t want us. But what are you going to do? Storm the Red Keep with a handful of men? And what if you’re wrong--what then?”

“I’m not wrong. And I don’t need a handful of men--I have me.” He gave her waist a squeeze in return and leaned forward to capture her lips and kiss her hard. It was brief, but it caught her off guard just enough to release her hold on him as he walked around her to the horse.

“Don’t do this,” Ellaria pleaded once she recovered, but it fell on deaf ears. Oberyn was many things, but with his fearlessness often came a stupidity that Ellaria knew was going to put her in an early grave.

“Captain,” Oberyn addressed the man from before as he undid his traveling cloak and tossed it to one of the other soldiers.

“Your grace?” The stoic man stood up straighter and gave a nod of attention.

“No one, except myself, is allowed on this ship. You are to stay with my paramour and keep her safe at all costs, do you understand?” Oberyn gave him a very serious gaze and the other man nodded.

“I’m coming with you,” Ellaria protested, but Oberyn shook his head as he grabbed the horn of the saddle and hoisted himself up onto the animal with a swing of his leg.

“No,” He said curtly, rubbing his hand along hers on his knee to soften the sting of his words. “You are correct in saying I will not be able to take the Keep by force. I’m going to go get her, and come back unseen--I need you ready to sail the moment our feet touch the deck.”

“This will have consequences.”

“Everything we do always does.”

She bit her lip and lowered her dark eyes at him. There was no arguing with him. He had clearly made up his mind. “Be careful.”

He grinned and gave her a nod. “I always am.”

“If that were true, I would worry less,” She said. He chuckled before clicking his tongue and spurring the horse forward back across the dock and back into the city.

\--

It was early enough in the city square that barely anyone was in the streets. The shops and carts were still closed and the morning air was the cold, crisp kind that seemed to permeate one’s lungs and make them feel clean. The metal shoes of the horse clopped softly as Oberyn turned the reins and clicked his tongue again leading the animal down an alleyway.

The shadows swallowed him as he moved along the wall and pulled the animal up short, dismounting gracefully. He moved the reins up over the animal’s head and tied the leather straps to a beam that was protruding from the stone walls.

He knew the tower that held the servants quarters and the one that had held the bedchambers for the Lannisters when Elia had been queen. Ellaria would have skinned him alive if she had known that was what he was basing his entire plan off of--a memory of the castle layout that was the better part of a decade old.

He ran his hand along the damp stones of the wall that led down the alley and around the larger part of the tower. There were no guards to be seen, as they were no doubt guarding the doors, but he wasn’t looking for a door--he was looking for a window. He looked up, carefully pulling a bit of the mortar that held the stones in place from the wall and crumbled it between his fingers. Humming his approval, he pulled his dagger from the sheath on his side and reached up as high as he would and started digging one of the bricks loose.

He put his dagger away and grabbed the self-made foothold tightly before hoisting himself up to the metal sconce that held one of the Lannister banners on the side of the wall. With careful, meticulous planning, he found something to hold onto, one right after the other, up the side of the tower. A gap in the bricks, a stone that was slightly larger than the rest, it all served the same purpose. His arms and shoulders ached with the repeated motion of pulling his weight up but he pressed on.

He climbed to where the tower met one of the breezeways of the garden and used it as an opportunity to take a break and reassess. His boots dropped down on the roof of the apex of the tower and movement caught his eye. 

The window directly above him, where he was betting your bedroom was was open. But what was odd was the rope that was hanging down from it, blowing gently in the breeze. No, that wasn’t a rope, that was a long line of bed linens knotted together. The realization made him smirk as he searched the courtyard below for signs of movement.

“Clever woman,” he chuckled quietly to himself.

Staying low, he walked the spine of the roof along the perimeter of the courtyard until he got to the end and looked over into another dark alley. Whatever gods were looking down on him that day, were doing so favorably because just like he had hoped, there you were. You hugged the wall of the alley much like he had, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Not only were you not wearing a dress, leather riding breeches took the place of lacy skirts, but your hair was tucked carefully under the dark hood of your cloak. To the average person walking by, you looked ordinary, easy to miss, unless someone was really looking.

He turned his back to the alley and gripped the edge of the roof, lowering his body down as far as it would go before releasing his grip. His boots made a firm thud on the cobblestone behind you and he moved swiftly, putting one arm around your waist and the other over your mouth. Just as he expected, you tried to scream against his hand but he was quick to speak against your hair.

“It’s me, it’s me--”

You turned in his arms and he loosened his grip enough to let you. The look of utter relief on your face was enough to make his chest tight. He grinned and tucked a strand of your hair back into the safety of your hood.

“Oberyn..”

He let out a grunt and braced his knees as you threw your arms around his neck and put your face against his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your back and he dipped his head to kiss you softly.

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” he said, quietly.

"How did you know to come? I thought you were supposed to sail this morning before dawn. I was worried I would be too late."

“We are--but I knew something was wrong. I knew you didn’t send that note.” he rubbed his hands up and down your arms as if to keep you warm and convince himself that you were indeed real.

“What note?” You asked, a flash of fear crossing through your eyes followed quickly by realization. “Cersei--she said that she was going to send word to you and Ellaria that I had changed my mind.”

“She did,” he nodded. “But it wasn’t very convincing.” He winked and you gave a sigh of relief and hugged him again. "If you don't wish to go to Dorne, I expect to hear it from your own lips."

"No--" you blurted out and put your hand to your mouth, looking around the alleyway for any signs of another person. "No, I want to go--I want you, and Ellaria."

He smiled then and let his large hand cup the side of your face, allowing you to lean into his touch as he backed you up against the stone wall and kissed you deeply. "I was hoping that's what you would say." He whispered against your lips and you put your hands on his chest, gripping his tunic. He allowed himself to indulge for only a moment before he pulled back and said to the space between you, "We need to go. Ellaria is waiting and I fear the longer we wait, our odds of getting caught only increase."

You nodded quickly. "Cersei gave the order that if anyone wearing Martell colors came to the castle, they were to be killed on sight--especially you and Ellaria."

"Did she now? Well, that might make things interesting." He chuckled, but it held no joy, it was a noise of spiteful entertainment. "Come on," he grabbed your hand and walked ahead of you, keeping the majority of your body behind him.

The two of you hurried along the wall and you let Oberyn guide you down the alley and around the corner as he clearly retraced his steps. He stopped abruptly, almost causing you to collide with his back as he spotted his horse, now being inquisitively observed by two of the king's guard. They carefully untied the beast from its tether to the wall and looked at one another in confusion. Two against one? Those were favorable odds in his eyes. 

"Stay here," he said, planting you against the bricks with a firm hand on each of your arms.

"Oberyn--Obr--fuck." You tried to protest but he was already gone.

He moved like his nickname implied, swift and silent, like a snake in the sand. He grabbed the hilt of his dagger and pulled it from his belt, his hand wrapped securely around it as he reached the two guards. They never stood a chance as the prince grabbed the taller one by the back of the helmet, jerked his head backwards, and wrapped his arm around the front of him to run the blade across his throat in a dramatic display of red. The horse whinnied and reared back, taking a few steps away from the group of men.

“Stop!” The other guard yelled, as his comrade fell to his knees and then face down, unmoving on the stone.

The command didn’t do any of good, as Oberyn rushed him before he could pull his long sword. The Prince raised his knee and kickied the long sword from his hand with a clang. Oberyn used the momentum and slammed him up against the brick stones, the man tried to scream and he drove the blade of his dagger into his open mouth, through the back of his head, pinning him against the bricks. Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling an involuntary noise of shock as you watched the man’s body twitch, resembling a butterfly pinned to a board in a Maester’s laboratory.

Oberyn leaned in, gripping the man’s hair as blood poured down his chin and he fought his body’s urge to close his mouth around the blade. Any screams he may have made were strangled around the steel as he looked at his attacker with horrified eyes.

“You can keep the dagger,” Oberyn said quietly, close to the man’s face, as he traced his finger down the detailed snake on the hilt. “I want Jaime and the queen to know I was here.”

He looked back at you, expecting to see horror on your face, disgust, regret, anything that would have you second guessing your decision to go with him now that you had seen such a thing. But you were a Lannister, and when he extended his hand to you, you took it willingly. He pulled you behind him only dropping your hand long enough to hoist himself up onto the horse and reach back down to lift you up as well.

You put your hands in the mane of the animal as one of his arms came around the front of your body and held your back tightly against his chest. He dug the heels of his boots into the haunches of the horse and it bolted, thundering hooves against the stone. It was no longer about being quiet. It was about being quick, and putting as much distance between the you and King’s landing as possible.

The two of you rode hard and fast through the streets of the city. People waking up for the day and starting to open up their homes and shops looked at you with curious speculation but you moved too swiftly for much else. Oberyn’s arm was a comforting weight along your stomach and you put one of your hands over it, leaning back into his chest to ground yourself against the jerking of the horse as it galloped.

The minute the docks came into view you felt like you could breathe again. Your chest ached from the anticipation of being unable to see your destination but it was the image of Ellaria standing tall at the edge of the ship that made you want to burst into tears. She looked absolutely stunning, in her burnt orange robes, soft dark leather bodice and matching riding trousers. She was a siren on the water, and she was waiting to call both of you home.

“Sails!” She yelled, over her shoulder to the men behind her and Oberyn’s captain nodded in agreement before moving to make sure everyone within earshot followed her orders.

Your body jerked as Oberyn steered the stallion up the ramp to the ship and jumped it over the edge onto the deck with a loud thud. He let the animal slow to a trot as its chest heaved from the exertion and it blew loud breaths through its nostrils. He pulled up on the leather reins and came to a stop just as the ship shoved off from the port and Ellaria picked up her robes and came running down off of the quarterdeck.

No sooner had Oberyn released you to slip from the saddle and to the ground did she have you gathered in her arms. Your hood fell and she put her hands in your hair and kissed you. “Thank the gods,” she breathed against your mouth and you smiled, a few tears of relief forming in the corners of your eyes.

Oberyn swung his leg and jumped down, handing the beast off to one of his men before turning a fond grin upon the two of you. “I do believe I told you so.”

“Not now,” she chastised him with a smile and a shake of her head but she kept her gaze on you. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Ellaria--” you swallowed hard and took her hands in yours and gripped them tightly. “I didn’t--I would never have left..”

“I know, I know, sweet girl,” she brushed your hair back from her face and nodded. “Oberyn knew. You’re safe.” She kissed you again and drew you into her body, resting her chin on your shoulder and looking at Oberyn standing behind you. “What have we done?” she asked with a smile, her tone saying full well that the consequences didn’t matter.

“With any luck,” he shrugged and rubbed his chin as a smirk overtook his face. “We started a war.”

\--

You had no idea just how long you had been on the open water, the days all seemed to run together. The sun rose, the sun set, and as far as the eye could see was just blue water that blended with blue skies. Your fingers twisted idly in the chain of your mother’s necklace that sat nestled between your breasts inside of your bodice--the only worldly possession you had made sure to grab when fleeing the Red Keep. Your lovers had assured you that their first task in Dorne would be to buy you everything you needed, but none of that seemed to matter that much.

The whole feeling of getting further and further away from your old life in King’s Landing seemed surreal. The idea that you didn’t have to return to Casterly Rock didn’t feel like it could possibly be true, but it was. As you stood on the bow of the ship with your hands on the railing and the wind in your hair, you knew that it was true--there was no going back.

Solidly strong arms slid around your waist as sun kissed skin nosed your neck and you leaned back against the solid chest of Oberyn Martell. You had been so caught up in your thoughts, that you hadn’t heard his boots on the planks behind you.

“How is she?” you asked quietly and he spoke as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“She’s fine,” he heaved a sigh when you reached back to put your hand in his hair. “Finally asleep--hopefully she stays that way for a while.”

True to what she had told you in the brothel, as soon as the ship broke the waters of the open ocean, Ellaria had become almost violently sea sick. She had spent the majority of the trip with her entire body over the wooden rails, Oberyn and you taking turns holding her long, dark curls out of the way as she emptied her stomach until there was nothing left. She refused to eat, and when she finally caved and allowed even the smallest morsel to pass her lips, it wound up back in the water a few hours later.

“I feel awful for her.”

“It happens every time,” he said, trying to ease your concerns. “It is a small price to pay to see the world--her words, my dear, not mine.”

You nod and keep your eyes on the horizon as he moves your hair to the side. The action bares your neck to him and your eyes close slowly as you feel his lips start a trail at your shoulder.

“Did you ever send word to your family?” You asked finally, putting your hands over his on your abdomen.

“No,” he answered flatly. “I thought I’d let it be a surprise.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” Your voice was chastising and it made him nip your neck and chuckle when you jumped.

“I’m a Prince of Dorne,” he continued. “You need to get used to that. You don’t need to ask permission anymore.” He kissed up to the shell of your ear and whispered. “What’s our rule?”

The action caused you to shiver and you squeezed his hand. “Don’t apologize.”

“Exactly. Most people spend their entire lives making excuses and apologies for the things they truly desire--we are not most people.” One of his hands slid up from your waist to cup your breast through your bodice as he licked a slow, wet line down the side of your throat.

“Oberyn…” you bit your lip and let out a shaky breath before briefly glancing over your shoulder to make sure none of his men had their attention on the two of you. “Stop--” you moved his hand from your breasts and back to your waist.

“As you wish,” he grinned against your skin and went back to resting his chin on your shoulder and looking out at the water. “But the second we get settled in our chambers in the palace--you and Ellaria are both _mine_.”

“ _Our_ chambers?” you asked, turning your head to smile at him and he hummed in agreement.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather sleep elsewhere?” he teased and chuckled as you shook your head. He was quiet for a few moments before he squeezed you gently, moving one of his arms to point across the horizon. “Look, my love.”

Your gaze followed his arm and your heart raced as the horizon broke to show that there was indeed land on the other side of the world. The smile that broke across your face was so wide that it almost hurt. Unlike the shore of King’s landing and Casterly Rock, there were no cliffs, no crags, no ragged edges to dull the beauty of the waves and darken the landscape. No, this was very different. The sandy beaches were warm and inviting, the foam from each crest of the waves broke against the shoreline and rolled back to let the sunlight sparkle off of the surface. You wanted to jump into the water, to feel the sand against your skin, to immerse yourself in what was to be your new home.

As if sensing your thoughts, Oberyn lowered his voice and spoke against your hair, “Welcome to Dorne, Lioness.”


	11. Dorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series basically happens in three “acts” and this begins act: II so to speak. Doran Martell has five ulcers and three of them are named ‘Oberyn’. Also, holy warnings/promises, batman.
> 
> You arrive in the beautiful city that is the definition of summer paradise. Introduce Doran, the current Martell on the throne and Oberyn’s older brother, who may be used to Oberyn’s antics but this is a new level even for him. A Lannister lover that he kidnapped and brought to Sunspear? Goddammit Oberyn.

Until your feet touched the sands of the shore, it was as if Dorne and the city of Sunspear had been a distant dream. A wish on which you foolishly based the rest of your life and hoped the gods didn’t decide to rake you over the coals. The city was everything that King’s Landing and Casterly Rock wasn’t--it was warm and colorful. In place of the jagged edges and cold stone, there were elaborate fountains, trundles of orange and pink flowers, smooth sand-stone and terracotta archways.

Oberyn had put his hands on your waist and helped you climb up into the saddle of your horse, thankful for your choice of escaping in riding trousers, before he turned and did the same to Ellaria. His guards took up their post on either side of Oberyn’s own stallion and you started the parade, for lack of a better word, into the capital of Sunspear.

You had never seen such a reception to a ruler before, normally people would show up out of respect, but the aura around crowds such as those was very different. People waved, smiled, and lifted up their children to lay eyes on the Dornish Prince who smiled back in return. Flowers of all kinds and colors landed at the feet of your horses. Young boys climbed to the top of fountains and called him by name before their mothers made them get down. Young girls blushed as soon as they dared to make eye contact with him before putting their heads close together in a fit of giggles. This was what it meant to be a Prince of Dorne. This is what it meant to be a ruler that was beloved by your people.

The palace in the middle of the capital was immaculate. Large white walls of marble and smooth stone were accented with red and orange mosaic tiles. Gold fixtures and gossamer drapes ran from the ceiling to the floor and were adorned with the Martell sigil--a large red sun with an orange spear through the middle.

Barrels and trunks of whatever had been brought back from the Landing were unloaded behind you as the horses were put away and the soldiers from the ship returned to their barracks or their homes. After so long on the ocean, the ground felt like it was moving beneath your feet and you weren’t certain if you would ever feel solid again. Ellaria's arm came around your waist and she captured your lips without pretense.

"I can finally kiss you without fear of being sick," she cooed and you laughed.

"Should I be offended?"

"Not at all," she rubbed the tip of her nose against yours with a grin. "It was that damned ocean, I have told our prince many times that I belong on land."

"Would you prefer I left you behind?" Oberyn's voice came as he fell into step beside the two of you.

"You wouldn't dare."

In the short time you had known the two of them, it didn’t take long to realize that Ellaria was most likely the one person in all the kingdoms that could stop Oberyn with a single look. Her fiery amber eyes never failed to put such a powerful man in his place and you could tell he loved every second of it.

Ever since leaving King's Landing you had felt light, like you were weightless in the sense that the ever growing tension from being surrounded by hostility had lifted. You felt like you could take a full breath, as if whatever unseen force pressing down on your chest was suddenly gone. And you knew it was because of the two people at your side and the distance they had so willingly put between you and your family's capital.

Oberyn walked in front of you, dismissing some of his own guards and nodding to the others that flanked the large, ornate, red doors in front of you. He jaunted up the few steps and pushed them open dramatically with both hands announcing his arrival to all who lay on the other side. You paused, reaching for Ellaria's arm as she gave you a curious look. This was their home. Their kingdom. This was the very place that Oberyn's brother sat on the throne--then why did you suddenly feel so terrified? You surely had nothing to fear from his family. But then again, the same could never have been said about your own.

"Brother!" Oberyn said, opening his arms as he went down the few stairs that led into what resembled a greeting parlor.

Just like the rest of the palace, the ceilings were tall, with huge pillars that made your eyes follow them all the way up to glittering mosaic tiles. Soft drapery and beaded curtains rippled gently in the breeze as the room opened up to a series of shallow pools and a balcony that overlooked the city. Dorne was known for its beautiful weather and it seemed it's people forgoed windows that would otherwise keep out the sunlight and the warm air.

A man with longer, black hair that curled just below his ears, nodded for the others sitting among the couches to leave and they quickly scattered under his hard gaze. He looked like Oberyn, from his tanned skin to the grey that had started to streak his dark hair--this had to be Doran. He reached for a jeweled cane and stood slowly, body stiff from sitting, and he turned those honeyed-brown eyes directly on you.

"So, it's true." He looked you up and down carefully, narrowing his gaze in a way that made you feel like a child who had done something wrong. He looked to Oberyn. "You kidnapped a Lannister."

Oberyn laughed, a superficial chuckle that made him put a hand on his stomach as if to convince you all that he actually saw humor in his brother's words. "Always so dramatic, brother--"

“If you would like to talk about my dramatic ways, then you can turn right around and put her back on that boat to King’s Landing.”

His voice was firm and it suddenly felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. The three of you froze and you felt Ellaria give your dress a gentle tug as she moved you closer to her side. To the untrained eye, Oberyn seemed unaffected by his brother’s tone, but you could see the backs of his shoulders tighten ever so slightly.

“Doran--”

“What’s your name?” Doran singled his gaze to you and you answered him quietly. “Welcome to dorne, My Lady,” He gave you a small bow, with one arm extended gracefully and the other leaning heavily on his cane. “I assume you came with my brother willingly?”

“Of course she--” Oberyn tried but Doran cut him off.

“I’m not speaking with you.”

“Your grace,” you stepped forward, letting go of Ellaria’s hand. You picked up the sides of your cloak and dipped your knees and your head. “I did--he saved me.”

“Saved you?” Doran raised an eyebrow and put one hand on top of the other on his cane.

You swallowed hard and fought the urge to look at Oberyn. The man in front of you clearly held your fate in his hands and he currently couldn’t care less what your lover had to say in the matter. You nodded and continued.

“Please don’t send me back,” you shook your head. “Trust me when I say the Lannisters won’t miss me.”

“The Lannisters do not give away that which belongs to them without something in return--” Doran started, his voice low and reserved.

You felt the anger bubble up inside of your gut at the idea that after a lifetime of being ignored, your family suddenly pretended to care, or would put on the act of wanting you, purely because you were desired by someone else. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arm out to the side and cut off the Dornish Prince.

“I belong to no one!”

You lowered your arm and clenched your fist, mumbling your apologies as you averted your gaze to the floor. No one said anything for a moment and the silence in the room was deafening. You felt a hand at the small of your back as Oberyn’s boots came into your line of vision. The gentle way in which he touched you made your breath catch and the idea of going back to Casterly Rock and never knowing the touch of him again--no, that was something you couldn’t even begin to entertain. It was too painful.

“Be that as it may, my lady,” Doran looked at you and it was as if he was choosing his words extremely carefully. “My palace, my city, and anything you may need, is yours--for now.” You started to open your mouth to protest but he stopped you. “Go and get yourself settled in your chambers. I need to have a word with my brother.” He glanced at Oberyn and it was clearly a look that said you and Ellaria were no longer needed.

“I’ll join you shortly,” Oberyn said, giving you a reassuring smile that quickly turned into a grin. “If Doran doesn’t so graciously behead me on the spot.”

“Oberyn--” Ellaria said through gritted teeth as she took your hand and the two of you walked towards the door.

You looked behind you at your lover and his grin remained as he gave you a wink and watched you leave. He may not have been worried, but you had a feeling Oberyn didn’t take the consequences of his actions as seriously as he should have. As if reading your thoughts, Ellaria leaned in and lowered her voice as her arm slid around your waist.

“He’ll handle it, my love,” she said with a reassuring squeeze. However, her words did nothing to lessen the tightness in your chest.

\--

Oberyn crossed his leg over his opposite knee and drummed his fingers rapidly along the leather of his boot. It felt like it had been forever since the two of you had left the room and he had been forced to sit in silence and stare across the table at his brother and his disapproving face. When had Doran become their father?

The gray at the edges of his temple was a common trait among the men of the Martell house. Oberyn has his own peppered along the edges of his scalp and although Ellaria insisted they were handsome, they were but a nagging reminder of his own mortality. Doran insisted that most of his were in direct relation to Oberyn himself, and his eldest daughter Arianne. Doran would have bet a large amount of coin that his gray hair was also attributed to his estranged wife--but he dared not bring up such heartache in front of Doran. Despite their bickering, Oberyn considered such a topic to be a low blow.

“Are you going to say anything?” Oberyn said, trying to keep the sharpness from his voice. “Or are you just going to sit there and stare at me?”

“What were you thinking?” Doran snapped.

“Nevermind, I think I preferred your silence--”

“A Lannister. A Lannister, Oberyn!” Doran rubbed his hand down the front of her face. “Is this a new testament to the ferocity of your cock?”

“It’s not what you think--it has nothing to do with that--”

“Oh? So, you’re not fucking her?” Doran said, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say that--”

“Gods be damned, Oberyn.” Doran leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment as if he was truly having his patience pushed to its limits. “Of all the stupid things you’ve done--”

“Is there a point to this lecture?” Oberyn groaned dramatically.

Doran glared at the man opposite him. “What would Elia say?”

“This isn’t about her.”

“Everything you do is because of her.”

“I want to make sure I don’t forget about her as easily as you have.”

“Watch your tone with me.”

The two of them had never really seen eye to eye. They had fought as children--Doran the ever studious, reserved child, while Oberyn, the troublemaker, was the one to tease and terrorize their teachers. As they grew, nothing changed. Though they were both adored by their parents, they only continued to grow further apart--the only thing that bound them to each other was their love of Elia. Once she was gone, it had been easy to drift apart once again, lost in the sea of things left unsaid.

“I saw a woman with a gentle heart, trapped inside stone walls,” Oberyn started, careful to keep his tone even as he traced the stitching along the tops of his boot. “A woman guarded by lions with blood stained teeth, doomed to grow cold like the rest of them or end up like our dear sister--”

“Except you could save this one?” Doran asked, and when Oberyn gave a curt nod, he leaned forward in his chair. “Brother, what happened to Elia is not your fault. It does not need to rest on your shoulders alone--nor, are you to be burdened with seeking revenge on her behalf.”

“Then who?” Oberyn rebutted, genuinely asking. “Our father in his grave? Her son, in his?” He put his foot back on the ground and mirrored the other man’s posture on the edge of his seat. “You? I don’t mean to insult, but you lean more heavily on that cane with every passing day.”

Whether Doran liked it or not, he knew that Oberyn was right. If he didn’t extract revenge on behalf of their sister then there was no one left. Doran heaved a heavy sigh and nodded slowly.

“What are your plans for her?” Doran asked, and when Oberyn looked at him quizzically, he chuckled. “Do you think nothing of the future?”

“That’s always been your job.” Oberyn grinned. “If I did all the thinking, then what would be left for you to do?” He rubbed his beard that was in desperate need of a trim after being at sea and considered his words before he continued. “How did you know? Before I even arrived..”

“I’ve known you your entire life,” Doran leaned back and put his arms on the rests of his chair and had a small grin of his own. “Do you think I would let you go to King’s Landing without someone to keep an eye on you?”

“Fair enough.” He waited what felt like a respectful amount of silence before standing, with hopes of leaving. His breath was held in anticipation of Doran telling him to remain seated, but when no such order came, he bowed his head. “Brother. Good to be home as always.”

“Oberyn.”

Oberyn froze on his path to the door and he silently cursed the other man’s entire existence as he turned slowly back around to face him.

“I will not have war come to Dorne over her. Whatever your feelings may be, you cannot ask me to condem my people because a lion is unhappy in her own den.” Doran steepled the tips of his fingers together as he chose his words carefully.

“Then what do we do?”

“I’m not sure. But I need you to start thinking about how you’ll feel if keeping her here requires me to make a deal with the very monsters you stole her from--”

“You don’t mean--”

“Is she worth yielding to Tywin Lannister?” Doran raised his hand as Oberyn started to open his mouth. “Do not answer so quickly. For once in your life...think on your response.”

Oberyn clenched his jaw and nodded. As much as he wanted to retort, to argue, to plead with his brother to do everything within his power to not get in bed with the likes of Tywin, he knew it was futile. As the door shut firmly behind him, he felt his shoulders relax for the first time since stepping off of the boat in the harbor.

\--

The room that was to be your bedchambers for the foreseeable future, however brief that would be because of Doran, was breathtaking. You stepped over the threshold and looked around as Ellaria shut the door behind you.

"This is our room?" You said quietly and she grinned.

"While we're here. Our chambers at the Water Gardens may be smaller but they're much more…" she waved her hand around as if searching for the correct words. "Intimate. Permanent? This is just a placeholder when we're in the capital."

"The Water Gardens is the Palace of the Martells?" You asked, thinking of how Casterly Rock was the home of the Lannisters, compared to King's Landing.

"Exactly," she nodded and moved to one of the trunks. Oberyn's men had already unloaded all of their possessions from the ship while you met with Doran. She opened the heavy lid with a thud and started rifling through it before leaning back, triumphantly holding the bottles of Dornish wine that she had packed so carefully. "I'm absolutely famished--I'll finally be able to keep something substantial in my stomach now that the ground is planted firmly under my feet."

You watched as the silks and boxes and things unknown spilled from the edge of the chest and you knew that even more resided in the ones beside it. It was a very vivid reminder that the only possessions that you had to your name were the clothes on your back and your mother's necklace nestled between your breasts. Did you mourn the loss of material things? Not exactly. But it was a new feeling. A Lannister without possessions was an enigma. One might say such a Lannister was hardly a Lannister at all.

"My dear?" Ellaria must have noticed the emotions playing on your face as you looked at the wooden trunks because she set the wine on the table and took a few steps towards you. "First thing tomorrow, we will get you everything you desire. New clothes, gowns, jewelry--everything."

"You don't have--"

"Do you think a prince of Dorne is going to let either of his Paramours do without?" She raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Paramours?" You said with a small smile, adding emphasis to the plural form of the word.

"He stole you away from the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms--did you think you were just a commoner?" She returned your smile and leaned in giving you a soft kiss on the mouth before moving back to the wine, she poured two glasses and held one out to you.

You took it and walked to look out the balcony doors. Lush, green ivy dangled from the columns that supported it, and the city was quieting down as the sun set over the ocean in the distance. Everything in the room, from the floors to the furniture, from the adjacent washroom to the bookshelves, was as if it had been kissed by the sun. It was warm and inviting, with soft, colorful drapery, and vibrant mosaic tiles that you appreciated more and more, each time you looked around the room. Ellaria moved to sit on the edge of the bed and watch you fondly.

"Oberyn," you paused and looked down at your wine before back to her. "Oberyn isn't in trouble is he?"

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Ellaria scoffed. "But you shouldn't worry. This isn't the first time he has invoked Doran's wrath, and it won't be the last." She gave a genuine laugh and drank deeply from her cup.

You gave a small chuckle in return but it quickly died out. "But this is my fault."

"No, it isn't, sweet one," she shooed away the very idea and leaned back on her elbows with her wine in her hand. “No matter what comes of this, Oberyn and myself made our own decisions. We offered to bring you to Dorne and you accepted,” she shrugged. “That isn’t a very scandalous tale if you ask me.”

You knew she was making light of it just to put you at ease. But the uneasiness of what this unprecedented exchange between your family and Oberyn's settled like a rock in your gut.

The door opened firmly and the two of you looked up as Oberyn walked in, his boots echoing heavily on the floor. He let it fall closed behind him as he made large strides across the room in a direct line towards your place by the balcony. His face was so stoic you couldn't read him, but his eyes, those eyes held an unbridled fury that you had never seen.

“Oberyn--” You tried to say but he ripped the chalice from your hands and set it on the table. His hand slipped behind your neck, holding you in place as he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your hands moved up hesitantly, slowly cupping his face as if you could retain any insignificant amount of control as he ravaged your mouth.

"Oberyn?" Ellaria sat up slowly and when he didn't answer her she quickly moved to lock the bedroom door.

His kiss was like sweet fire like the cinnamon burn at the bottom of honeyed mead. The feeling of tongue and teeth, paired with the pressure of his lips and the heat of his mouth was an exquisite experience. He kissed you until your lungs ached with the need for air and when he pulled away you almost fell against his chest, quiet gasps of air coming from your own. He seemed unfazed as he grabbed you firmly by the upper arms and looked into your eyes.

"Are you mine?" He asked flatly.

"I--" your voice failed you and he gave you a small shake against his chest.

"Answer me!"

"Yes." You swallowed hard and looked up into his face. His emotion was palpable but it wasn't anger that he radiated. No, it was something else. You desperately wanted to know what Doran had said after you and Ellaria had left the room, but the way he looked at you made the question die on your tongue. "Yes--I'm yours."

"Then show me."

His large hands reached into your cloak and shoved it off of your shoulders as you did the same to his tunic. Frenzied hands and fingers pulled and threaded, prodded and yanked, until the two of you had created a pile of clothing on the floor. His arm went around your back as he grabbed a handful of your ass and thigh, to hoist your leg up to his waist. His length pressed against the front of you, already hard and throbbing as he snarled against your lips.

"You may have let me fuck you in that library in Robert's squalid excuse for a castle--but believe me when I say, nothing compares to the way this prince will fuck you in his own palace." He gave the backside of your thigh a firm squeeze as he nipped at your lips and planted quick kisses to the corner of your mouth and jaw.

"Fuck me--please, fuck me." You whispered as you grabbed the thick chain of his gold necklace that lay against his bare chest.

"So, greedy. What am I to do with two greedy women in my bed?" He chuckled so deeply you felt like he had made the sound directly against your cunt. He dropped your leg and turned you around giving your ass a smack, his hand pushing you a step towards the bed. "On your knees."

You bit your lip to keep the yip of surprise in as his fingertips caught the supple flesh of your ass. Ellaria was already in the middle of the bed and void of her clothing like the two of you. Your eyes fell to her perfect breasts, pear-shaped and pert--you suddenly longed to have them in your mouth. She caught your gaze and grinned, moving to her knees in the middle of the red and coral colored silks as you crawled to her.

"Your beauty increases as your doubt fades," she purred as she cupped your face and kissed you deeply. It wasn't nearly as demanding of a kiss as Oberyn's but it was still just as sweet.

"Are you saying I wasn't beautiful before?" You asked, lowering your mouth to her right breast and taking her dark nipple between your teeth.

She gasped and slid her hand into your hair, pulling gently. "Never…"

You closed your eyes and concentrated on her velvety skin in your mouth, laving her flesh with your tongue. Just as you were moving to give her left the same attention, Oberyn's hand came from behind you, between your legs to cup your aching cunt. You moaned against Ellaria's breasts as his thick fingers found you already wet. He parted your folds and rubbed his hand up and down your slit, spreading your wetness tantalisingly slow until you whimpered his name. His fingers worked in and out of you, shallowly stretching your entrance with obscene wet sounds between your thighs.

Ellaria dipped her head and took your chin in her hand, making you look up from her chest. "Tell me if it's too much. Do you promise, my sweet?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows narrowing in a curious manner.

Before you had time to contemplate her words more, Oberyn's fingers slipped from inside of you and was swiftly replaced by his cock. He sheathed himself inside of you in such a way that had Ellaria not been in front of you, you would have fallen face first into the bed. It was a tight fit, a beautifully uncomfortable burn as his length reached the places that his fingers couldn't.

"So tight," he bit his lip and hummed his approval as he graciously gave you some much needed time to adjust. Oberyn was a large man and when he had you like this, it was easy to feel just how large he really was. "Give me your arms."

He leaned forward and grabbed you by the bend of your elbows, almost jerking them behind you, but instead pinning them against your side. The movement bowed your back and made your ass push back against his cock wantonly, a good whore for your insatiable Prince. The thought was enough to make your face feel hot and your walls clench around his length, making him groan.

He gripped the insides of your elbows and looked down at where your ass rested comfortably against his pelvis. "Do you not remember that I said 'show me'? Fuck your Prince, lioness."

His words were shameless and you obeyed all the same. You leaned forward on your knees until your arms pulled taught against your sides. Then you bounced back against him, the soft curls of the dark hair around his cock tickled your skin. The range of movement wasn't much, immobilized for the most part, but you did your best. Each thrust back against him, made his head tap against the end of you, dragging along the spot at the top of your walls that made your eyes flutter.

"Oh--fuck, Oberyn," you whispered and Ellaria's soft lips were once again pressed to yours to eagerly swallow any sounds you made.

"He gets to watch your ass bounce, while I get to watch these perfect tits," she mumbled against your mouth before tweaking your nipple and drawing a yelp from you.

"Gentle, Ellaria," Oberyn warned and the dark-haired woman smiled.

"Yes, of course, lover," she hummed. She put her hand on your stomach and traced a path down to your hip, and then to your thighs. Her long, slender fingers, left goosebumps in their wake before cupping your mound and rolling your clit between them. When you gasped, she chuckled. "There it is. Oh, my sweet girl, is that the spot that makes you ache?"

"Y-yes," you groaned as she continued to rub you and Oberyn took control behind you. He held you still as he thrust against you, hard enough that the flesh of your ass rippled in his wake. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

Ellaria went up on her knees and put the hand that wasn't buried in your cunt around your throat. She squeezed lightly and your eyes flew open to look at her as she held her lips a mere inch from you. Her words were a whisper, encouragement meant for you and you alone, but her eyes stayed fixated on Oberyn. His concentration unyielding as he almost forgot about the two of you and focused on the sheer ferocity with which he fucked you.

"You're doing so well, my love, my sweet girl--" she planted a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth and continued. "Feel how he rams you? How he desperately seeks his release in the only cunt he desires? You are his. Just as you are mine."

"Harder," you breathed as Ellaria squeezed your throat and raised a sharp eyebrow.

"What did you say, my pet?"

"I'm close--I need," you closed your eyes tightly and your words failed you as you rocked your ass back to meet each of Oberyn's thrusts. The slapping sound of his skin meeting yours echoed in the high ceilings of the bedroom as he obeyed your request. "Yes! Yes, Oberyn yes--fuck!"

Ellaria kissed you again, eating your pathetic cries with tongue and teeth as you opened for her. Her fingers found your clit once again and resumed her relentless stroking of the already sensitive bud. You jerked your arms against Oberyn's hands but he refused to give up his hold on you. In fact, he pinned your arms at your back and used this as leveraged to yank you back against his cock in a desperate display of his physical prowess.

The cry fell from your lips as you felt your release snap and you clenched down around his cock. Oberyn all but roared as he grabbed you around the stomach with one arm yanked your back against his chest to replace Ellaria's hand on your throat with his own. He gripped your body like a man possessed, holding you tightly as he thrust his release inside of you. Each slow pound of his hips was paired with a deep growl that seemed to accentuate each spill of himself inside your heat.

You reached back with a shaking hand, gripping his hair as he buried his face in your neck. When you both opened your eyes, you saw Ellaria hand leaned back against the array of colorful pillows and was touching herself to the vision of her lovers orgasminging in each other's embrace.

"Such beauty graces my presence--I am a lucky woman indeed." She grinned as she continued to play her fingers along her labia, teasing her entrance without ever taking eyes off of you and Oberyn.

"Do you want me to teach you something, lover?" Oberyn breathed harshly in your ear as he tried to catch his breath still sheathed inside of you.

"Yes, anything," you said eagerly and he chuckled, slipping from inside of you as he gave your ass an encouraging smack.

"On your hands and knees," he said, grinning as you obeyed and the both of you moved closer to Ellaria. "I'm going to show you how to properly eat her cunt."

Your head whipped around to look at him but you had to admit the idea of tasting such a magnificent woman had your clit throbbing all over again. He smirked and gave you an encouraging nod. When you turned back to Ellaria, her arms were outstretched to beckon you to her.

"I think I'm going to enjoy living here," you said and the two of them looked shocked for a brief moment before all three of you dissolved into laughter.

"Oh my sweet, girl," Ellaria said as she pulled you in for a deep kiss. "I never had any doubt." Her hand weaved through your hair and cradled the back of your head gently as she pushed your face down between her thighs. Oberyn laid on his side and propped his head in his hand, close enough to gently whisper how he wanted you to begin.

\--


	12. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are in Dorne people! You wake up in bed with your lovers for the first morning of what you hope will be the rest of your days. Oberyn tells you about his family and the two of you share some quality morning time. 
> 
> I need a fucking spreadsheet for Oberyn’s Daughters. I have a google doc and at this time in the Footprints era he only has 6 (there are two left to be born). Trust me, the age calculations were...time consuming.

The sounds of birds quietly singing outside the open window in the branches of the citrus trees drew you slowly out of slumber. If you strained your ears you could hear the distinct sounds of the ocean crashing against the sands as the city started to rise and begin it's day. With tired limbs, shaky and weak like a newborn foal, you slowly sat up and pushed your wild hair out of your face. Even laden with fatigue, you had never felt more rested.

Ellaria slept quietly beside you, naked and draped in one of the many silk sheets that adorned the massive bed that the three of you now shared. Her ebony curls fanned over the pillows and her copper skin looked so soft in the morning glow of the sunbeams filtering through the gently swaying curtains. It was clear to you then that you would never get used to how truly beautiful she was, nor the idea that you were to wake beside her every morning. Was such a gift your new reality?

Looking to your left, you noticed the third member of your triad was missing.

"Oberyn?" You asked quietly to an empty room.

Ellaria turned over and pulled the sheet with her to help nestle herself down into the pillows and it made you smile. You could look for Oberyn alone--after spending the majority of the trip home sick she needed as much rest as she could get. Home. The idea of referring to such a place, and the ease at which the thought came to your mind made you feel light and giddy.

You grabbed one of Ellaria's oversized silk dressing robes off of the edge of the overflowing trunks and draped it over your shoulders. It didn't tie in the front and confirmed that it was more for decoration than for actual concealing of your nakedness. But it was soft, the royal blue slipping across your skin in a way that made you feel divine--the two of them had a knack for collecting divine and beautiful things.

The quiet trickle of water drew you to the room off to the side of the master bedroom. Before the three of you had tumbled into bed and well, into one another, Ellaria had given you a tour. The washroom was off to the side with a large marble pool for bathing, an ornate sun-shaped looking glass on the wall, and shelves full of scented oils and healing balms. Such luxury was something you had never seen, not even in the red keep, where money was thrown at armies instead of at the city's infrastructure.

Just as you had deducted, Oberyn sat in an armless, straight backed chair that he had pulled closer to one of the mirrors. A bowl of water sat on the table closest to him, and you leaned against the doorway and watched as he shaved. Despite the sunlight coming in from the window above the pool, a few candelabras flickered closer to where he was working to give him more light. There was yet to be a lighting in which his tanned skin didn't look utterly breathtaking to you and as you watched him drag his blade slowly up his throat and wipe away a bit of the soap on his neck, you had to remind yourself to in fact take a breath.

Your hand dipped down the valley of your breasts as you were suddenly filled with the desire to touch him. And yet, you didn't want him to stray from his task. You wanted to observe the way he moved, the way the muscles of his back shamelessly made your mouth water. The obvious solution for now was to touch yourself. Your fingers had barely ghosted the apex of your thighs when he spoke.

"What are you doing, lover?" His voice came as he looked at you in the mirror over his shoulder.

You took your hand away from your body and walked towards him, the silk of the robe blowing behind you gracefully while you walked. "Nothing.."

"Don't lie to your prince," he said, still holding a smile as he balanced the blade across the top of the bowl. "It looked like you were about to enjoy yourself to the image of me--come here." He grabbed your wrists and pulled you against him. He looked you up and down slowly, his dark eyes drinking you in as he reached up and pushed the robe from your shoulders to pool in the floor at your feet. "Aren't you a vision?"

"You flatter me."

"I simply observe."

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he transferred his grip from your wrist to your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years.”

“Good.”

You touched the smooth skin of his throat with the tip of your finger. The soap he had lathered onto his skin smelled of honeysuckle and rosemary. You desperately wanted to kiss along his jaw but he had only finished about half of his shaving, sculpting the sharp beard that ran along his pointed features perfectly. "May I?"

"May you what?" He looked up as he helped you slide into his lap.

"Teach me," you said, quietly as you straddled his thighs and nodded to the blade and then gestured to his jaw.

"Hmm," he made a thoughtful noise as his hands slid up your sides and cupped your breasts. His thumbs played over your nipples, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. "I don't allow many people to have a blade that close to my throat."

"I overstep--"

He pinched your right nipple gently and stopped your words before you could apologize. "You never overstep in my presence. Whose bed are you in?" He took your hand and guided it between your bodies as he started to grow hard against your thigh.

"Yours," You gasp as he wraps your fingers around his thick shaft, growing larger by the moment.

"And who am I?"

"A prince of Dorne."

"Exactly."

He put his hand behind your head and gripped your hair, pulling you forward enough to kiss you hard. You stroked him gently as you felt your own core start to respond to him. A small whimper fell from your mouth as you felt his fingers part your folds. You were sore from the night before but not enough to push away his affections. His name fell from your lips and his large hands cupped your ass and lifted you slightly.

"I'll teach you," he mumbled against your lips. "On the condition that you sit that beautiful cunt on top of my cock while you do."

You nodded as he gripped your ass and spread you slightly, making it easier for you to raise up on your knees. Using his shoulders for balance, you let him slowly impale you. He made room for himself in a way that made you clench against the intrusion. He encouraged you to relax as he nosed your neck and up to your cheek.

"How are you fairing from last night?" He asked, a soft grunt coming from his throat as you get settled.

"Sore, but I'll get used to it," you play your fingers in the back of his hair and watch his face. "I--um," you swallow hard and fight to keep your blush down. "I dreamed about what we did."

"About which part, my dear?"

"About," you lowered your voice and said quietly. "About tasting Ellaria."

"Hmm, I dare say you enjoyed that almost as much as she did." He chuckled and put his knuckle under your chin before you could look away. “No shame in that--who wouldn’t want to taste something that sweet?”

He trailed his fingers along the curve of your jaw and down over one of the mouth-shaped bruises on your neck. He had already apologized for them and you wouldn’t hear it again. You had enjoyed the making of them just as much as he had. When you bit your lip his cock twitched inside of you and you readjusted on his lap with a soft groan.

“Easy,” he chided you softly. “I can’t fuck you until I finish shaving.” His grin was as mischievous as his desire to keep you waiting. It excited you, made you long for unspoken promises you knew he intended to keep. “Grab the blade--I’ll teach you.”

You looked to the table on your right and picked up the dagger off of the bowl. It was a solid weight in your hand, not too heavy, but not at all flexible or flimsy. Unlike his other blades that you had seen on his belts and belongings, the handle was not adorned with a snake or sun or any kind of writing. In fact, it was pretty plain. Its charred black handle was crafted from the horn of an animal of some kind and wrapped in a leather strap for grip--despite the lack-luster appearance, it was clear that the blade was incredibly sharp.

“Should you use this on your face?” You raised an eyebrow and balanced it gingerly in your hand.

“What else would I use?” he chuckled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Now, firm grip. You’re going to need one hand on the blade and one hand on my neck.”

“Oberyn--” you said, suddenly feeling less sure of yourself.

“You can do it,” he encouraged. “I happen to like the view better like this.” He smirked, looking at your breasts. He started to lean forward to put his mouth on them and you pressed him back against the chair, firmly.

“Stay still,” you teased and he nodded.

“As you command, my love,” he leaned his head to the side. “Use your free hand to press gently and pull down on my skin. It will make it taught, and then you can shave down with the grain. Short, smooth strokes.”

You bit your lip in concentration as you did just as he said. Weeks of being in his bed and your heart still hammered when you were this close to him. Here sat one of the most deadly men you had ever known and his calloused but gentle hands cupped your ass as you held a rather large blade to his throat. The intimacy and trust of the situation was not lost on you.

The blade gave a little resistance as you started to drag it gently through the soap against his neck. The suds parted revealing his skin in the most entrancing way and you carved a path down from his jaw to where his previous lines ended.

“Was Doran upset with you? Yesterday, that is,” you asked quietly once you finished your line and moved to dip the knife in the bowl of water and wipe it on the cloth.

“Yes, of course,” Oberyn, took the chance to smile as you paused in your process. “But it wasn’t the first time, and I promise you it won’t be the last.”

Your stomach turned at his words and you looked at him in earnest. “I don’t want to go back--”

“I won’t let that happen.”

His tone was sharp enough to make you flinch but his hands moved up your back as if to soothe the sting from his words. Although you didn’t know how he planned on keeping it from happening, you wanted to believe him. You had to.

The two of you sat in silence as you carefully moved the blade down his throat, taking any hair with the soap before rinsing, drying, and starting a new line. You went much slower than was probably needed, but if you drew blood on him, you would have never forgiven yourself--although Oberyn would have probably found it amusing. He took the cloth and held it for you gently, his eyes softening as he gazed upon you. The trickle of the water in the bowl sounded far too loud in all of the quiet, so you cleared your throat.

"Tell me about your family, other than Doran--your children, perhaps?"

"You wish to know about my daughters?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and when you nodded he continued. "I have six."

"Six??" You asked, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

"Yes," he said simply. His voice continued to hold a good-natured tone, despite the fact that yours teetered on audacity.

"I'm sorry, that's just so many for--"

"An unmarried man?" He moved his hand up your side and rubbed his thumb along the side of your breast slowly. "It's much different down here in the southern part of the world, my love. As I've said of our Ellaria--bastards are born of passion, of love, and we do not despise them. Should the need arise, any one of my girls would be accepted as a princess of Dorne and would be allowed to sit on the throne."

"I didn't mean any offense--"

"And you have given me none. I just wish you to unlearn the ways of such small minded people. I know it will take time, but you live here now. Your home is in Dorne, so are your people." He reached up and brushed your hair back from your neck.

"I'll try." You sat up a little, adjusting yourself around his length as you resumed the task of shaving his face. The way he spoke to you didn't make you feel foolish or small, much like his voice when you asked about the blade, he wanted nothing more than to teach you.

"That's all I ask." He put his hands back on your hips and leaned his head back against the chair, exposing his throat to you again. "Let's see, my oldest, Obara, is eighteen. Her mother was a whore from oldtown. She is an excellent fighter."

"Like her father."

"Yes," he smiled sadly. "Unfortunately the gods also gave her my anger. But I don't blame her, considering her mother's love was also full of betrayal."

"Where is her mother?" You asked without thinking and before you could apologize, Oberyn answered.

"Dead."

You kept quiet and let him continue. The blade of the dagger whispered through the soap once again and you meticulously inspected his skin for stray hairs. Hundreds of questions came to the tip of your tongue and although you were certain he would answer them all, it was enough to listen to him tell his stories the way he wanted to.

"Sarella," he paused as he said the name quietly. "Well, I guess she'd be almost nine. Also born in Old Town. Her mother is captain of a trading ship. She writes to me. Told me of her birth--perhaps one day I'll get to meet her."

"Is that something you want?"

"Of course. But only if Sarella wishes it as well."

“I can't imagine a girl not wanting to meet her father if it means she would be a princess." You smiled and worked on the last section of his neck, priding yourself on the fact that you had managed not to accidentally draw blood on him.

"Her happiness is more important than her title. And if she is happy at sea with her mother, then so am I."

“Not a lot of fathers think that way.” You nodded and pressed gently on his skin. "Almost done."

"Take your time," he reassured with a relaxed sigh before continuing. "Nymeria just had her fifteenth name day, and she was born of a Noble woman in Volantis," Oberyn said factually as he trailed his finger up your spine slowly. "She looks like her mother. Acts like her, too." He chuckled. "Tyene, now her mother was a Septa."

You paused and leaned back, unable to mask the obvious shock on your face. "A Septa?"

"Scandalous, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Am I to believe that you charmed a woman from her own faith and into your bed?"

"You can believe what you want but the proof of our endeavor is thirteen years of age and currently living at the Water Gardens of the Martells." He laughed as you placed the blade back in the bowl and used the cloth to wipe the excess soap from his jaw. "She is the only one with blonde hair and pale skin--and you know that didn't come from me."

"You speak of them fondly. Not just your daughters, but...their mothers."

"I do."

"Did you love them?"

"I did. Once upon a time."

"You are…" you paused, shaking your head and moved to put the towel on the table.

"What?"

"Nothing." Your voice was sharper than you wanted it to be and looked away from him.

"I'm _what_?" he challenged. "I love each one of my daughters, just as I loved their mothers. That love may have burned out quickly, may have been nothing more than passionate infatuation but it doesn't make it less real. My heart has travelled a great distance before finding its permanent home with Ellaria...and you."

“Permanent?”

“Have you ever known me to be untruthful?” he asked and you shook your head ‘no’.

Did his list of lovers intimidate you? Did knowing he held genuine emotion for them make it any easier to swallow? Jealousy was a horrible thing and yet it burned in your heart for no reason at all. These women were long gone, lost to the past of his many lived lifetimes, and here you sat, perched on his cock no less, trying not to feel jealous. It was a childish way of thinking, a foolish way, and you were neither a child or a fool. He must have seen the anguish of your thoughts on your face because his hand reached up and grabbed your jaw roughly.

"Do you wish me to stop? Does my touch offend you, now?"

"No." You answered him stubbornly as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"Do you want me to tell you that you're far more lovely than any of them? That they all pale next to the beauty of my stolen lioness?" He raised his eyebrow again and when you tried to jerk your face from his grip, he held fast.

"Don't patronize me, Oberyn," you scowled as you put your hands on his chest and clenched around his cock. You suddenly wished he wasn't inside of you, distracting you, pulling you from the jealousy that your mind so desperately wanted to cling to. And yet, you wanted him deeper, closer, you wanted to claim him in a way that the flames of his past no longer could. All you had to do was say it.

"Then what would you have me do?" He asked as he pushed his hips up slightly, the feeling making your eyes flutter as you dug your nails into his flesh. "Say what you're feeling. What you want."

"I want," you took a steady breath before opening your eyes and looking at him with a level gaze. "I want to know that Ellaria and I are the only ones that possess your heart. That you don't look at me and see a foolish girl who has never left home, who doesn't have adventures to tell you about, or a long list of colorful lovers. I want to know that you won't grow bored of me."

“Ah,” he nodded. “I see.”

“You see? That’s it?”

Before you could pull away his hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck. He pulled you into him and kissed your lips with such a tenderness that made the animosity melt from your very skin. You desperately wanted to hold on to the small amount of anger you had, whatever upper hand it gave you was a lie, but it was better than continuing to feel naive in front of him.

“There’s that fire,” he whispered against your lips and you succumbed to him at last.

“What do you mean?”

“You insult yourself when there is nothing to insult. What an honor it is to help you write your own adventures." He moved his fingers to his lips and licked the tips of his first two. "And I say you've already had quite a first one--scaling down the Red Keep and running away with your two lovers is nothing to make light of."

"I guess you're right," you say quietly. You rock your hips forward once and he hisses, but still keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“You are not the wilting flower that the Lannisters have led you to believe your whole life. How does Ellaria feel about timid creatures?”

“Timid is boring.”

"And how wonderful will it be, to make it my life's work, to make you experience a love so exquisite, it will ruin all other partners you may have had in this life," he kept his tone even as he slipped his hand between your bodies and pressed his dampened fingers against your clit. "Or the next."

"Oberyn," you gasped quietly, raising up as he started to gently move his fingers back and forth. He had been inside of you the entire time and you were practically dripping because of it. Your own wetness soaked the inside of your thighs and dampened his lap as your velvety heat kept his cock tight and warm. You didn't know how much longer you could stand him not fucking you like he had the night before.

"And how are you feeling about my affections now?" He asked.

"Better," you whimpered.

"Better? Hmm, an improvement. I'll just have to keep reminding you until you're confident in them."

His free hand pressed into the small of your back to encourage you to move your hips. Obeying his silent command, you put your hands back on his chest and started to ride his lap. The stretch of him inside of you was still a tight fight due to the lack of movement for so long, and it was one of the most exquisite feelings in the world. Your head hung forward slightly, your hair falling over the front of your shoulder, and you made a soft sound as he pinched your clit. The way the head of him pressed against the sweet spot towards the end of you, made you ache for more. The feeling was intoxicating, addictive, and made you feel powerful in ways nothing else ever would.

“Oberyn--”

“Yes, my love?”

"I _am_ more lovely than your…," you swallowed hard as you forced the squeak from your voice. "Your other lovers."

"What did you say?" Oberyn moved his hand from your slit and grabbed your hips roughly, his tone surprised but still the deep rumble it had been.

"I said," you looked at him through the curtain of your hair before pushing it back and repeating yourself. "I am more lovely than your other lovers. Ellaria and I are lovelier and you will never grow bored of our bed."

“A much better tone.” He smirked, a grin that slowly reached from ear to ear and held a pride that was almost palpable. "And what makes you say that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" You leaned your forehead against his and whispered against his lips. "And whose cunt are you inside of?"

He chuckled quietly and matched your tone. "Hmm, I suppose you're right."

You yelped as he surged forward and kissed you hard, his tongue parting your lips as if he wanted to taste the words you had just said. He fisted his hand in your hair and held your head still as he devoured your mouth and thrust his hips up against yours. Your hands found his neck and moved up to cup his jaw, holding him in place with only a fraction of the strength he held you with.

His neck and face were soft and fragrant from the soaps you had just used to shave him. His beard once again was its normal crisp line that framed the edge of his jaw. He looked every bit the Prince that he was and you wanted him in the same desperate way that you wanted him in King's Landing.

Would that ever go away? Would the burning desire to claim such a powerful entity as your own ever truly leave you? The way Oberyn and Ellaria spoke of each other, it didn't seem so. And now that love included you. A triad of adoration, of burning passion that would follow the three of you to your dying day--you were ready to be consumed by it. You wanted to be consumed, to be devoured, and in their arms it wasn't a terrifying thought.

"Fuck me."

Normally such words fell from your lips, but this time, it was Oberyn that said them.

He purred against your skin as his large hand came down on your ass with a smack spurring your hips into action. You wanted to own him in the way he did you, possess his soul in the way he possessed yours. So if he wanted you to fuck him, you would happily oblige.

"I want your mouth on my tits," you panted as you grabbed him by his dark hair and shoved his face down against your chest. He obeyed, bowing his head to mouth at your breasts. He bit, he sucked, he grabbed handfuls of your chest.

“Like that, sweet girl?” he said, his beard rubbing harshly against your soft skin in a way that made you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him closer.

You leaned your head over his as you continued to ride him relentlessly and he held your hips, pulling you down on his cock over and over. A trickle of warmth started low in your belly as the tip of him brushed the end of you and you held still to preserve the feeling for a moment extra. It was a desperate fuck that was unlike the night before. It was about staking his claim on your body, or perhaps you were staking yours on his.

“Oberyn,” you whined as you felt your body teetering on the edge of its release.

“My body is but a throne for you and Ellaria. To use as you see fit and to sit on as it pleases you,” he looked up at you, his neck straining from the angle and making his voice a breathy plea. “Such a gorgeous woman and you’re all mine.”

“As you are mine,” you leaned down to capture his lips as you breathed your words into his mouth. You gasped and pulled away from his kiss as your orgasm took you abruptly. Your nails pressed into the back of his scalp as you bared down on his lap, enveloping his entire length and holding it inside you in a greedy moment of pure ecstasy.

His arm tightened around you as he cupped your pussy and used his hand to help bring you through the pleasure. You felt the wetness of your release on his fingers and lap as he stood, clutching you to his chest and giving you a moment to clench your legs around him. With a firm kick, he knocked the chair back out of the way and laid you bare on the floor.

“Apologies, but if I don’t fill you up soon, I may go mad,” he braced his arms on the ground next to your head as he rammed himself up inside of you and you pulled his weight down on top of your body.

“We wouldn’t want that,” you moaned as you claimed his mouth just as he claimed you with his release and a groan of pure adoration.


	13. A Dornish Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellaria helps you become a proper Dornish woman with clothes and jewelry. Doran has come up with a plan to save you from your own family.
> 
> And once again they're having sex. I would apologize but I know you heathens love it. This is an epic romance and E&O are very physical beings so I feel it is justified. But drop me a note if you feel it's too much?

“Don’t suck in like that,” Ellaria barked around a few of the gold pins that she held carefully between her lips. She put her hand on your stomach for the third time as she adjusted the fabric. “Relax. The point is that you’re comfortable.” 

When you rolled your eyes, Oberyn laughed from his spot on the fainting lounge. His beautiful skin looked exquisite against the green silk of the cushions and you would have given anything to be perched on his lap instead of where you currently stood on display. 

You put your hand over Ellaria’s and turned your head to look her in the eyes. “I feel like a mule.”

“You’re stunning.” Ellaria closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss you gently, pausing to add in a throaty whisper, “And if you were a mule, you’d be the prettiest one in the seven kingdoms.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against yours and you smiled, a soft laugh coming from you as you tried to capture her lips again. 

The three of you had been at this for over an hour. You had fled King's Landing with nothing but the clothes on your back and your two lovers were adamant about rectifying that. Oberyn had handed over the coin and for the majority of the time a professional seamstress had poked and prodded and pinned until you had a large pile of gowns and daily wear that Oberyn deemed suitable. 

When Ellaria told the seamstress she was no longer needed, you thought you were finished--you were wrong. Your lover had slowly stripped you back down and started measuring your bust and hips. Goosebumps speckled your skin as she pressed the soft measuring fabric over your nipples and around your back, taking a mental note of each measurement she took. 

“I have plenty of clothes, Ellaria,” you tried but she pulled out a bundle of delicate gold chains and dangling gems.

“These aren’t merely clothes,” she said, flatly as she fastened the first chain around your neck. It held fast, pressed flat against your skin but by no means choking you.

At first glance, it appeared to be jewelry, but there was far too much of it. The thin gold draped down your breasts and she hooked a bangle to each of your wrists, the action making the piece spread out over your body the way it was meant to. The strands grouped tightly to give the illusion of clothing, but the moment you moved, they allowed glimpses of your flesh beneath.

In between the chains dazzled soft opaque pearls and crystalline gemstones. It glittered and made quiet clinks against one another as they danced around your body with every turn you made. It made you feel like a decorated siren, a goddess adorned--it was such a prideful way of thinking, but it was addicting. 

You had seen similar decorations on dancers in the square and at festivals in King's Landing. Most of your acquaintances had looked down upon them in disdain--any woman that showed that much of her body was very obviously a whore, but you were stirred by their beauty. Ellaria drew you from your thoughts with a gasp as her fingers deftly closed around your nipple and coaxed the bud into a hard peak. 

"Ellaria!" 

"Shh. You're alright," she hummed with a grin as she repeated the motion with your other nipple. "Now, the final touch might sting a bit."

"It might _what_?" You asked with wide eyes and she looked back at you with a kind sincerity. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"Of course." 

The words left your mouth without a moment's hesitation. You did trust her. You trusted her enough to come across the narrow sea with her. You trusted her with your body, your heart, your very soul. She smiled, apparently that was the answer she had been hoping for. 

She bent her knees slightly and wrapped her lips around your right nipple, drawing another soft sound from you. She sucked it until the skin was pleasantly cool and aching for more of her attention. Your gaze flicked to Oberyn to see he had moved from the lounge to the edge of the bed for a better view. A sharp pain brought you back to the woman in front of you as she firmly clamped something around the erect bud. 

"Beautiful…" she sighed, laving it again with her tongue to soothe the sharpness. The feel of the metallic gold dampened with her sinful mouth was a luxury you had never experienced. It was addicting in nature...much like Ellaria herself. "Now, the other one?" She asked, holding up a duplicate piece of jewelry for you to see this time. 

A small, golden clamp rested in her elegant fingers, it dripped with teardrop shaped rubies, strung together, matching the pieces that already adorned your body. As the one she already put in place began to settle, the pain gave way to pleasure, as if someone was pulling slowly on your breast. Not the fiery intensity of before but definitely present. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and she grinned as she clipped the other one on your neglected nipple. 

"Gods be good," you gasped out each word as she clipped them together in the middle where another chain dangled over your stomach. Then she did something you never saw coming--she _tugged_. "Ellaria!" You cried as the action pulled your nipples simultaneously in a taut line. 

" _Hmm mhm,_ " she smirked and allowed you to grab onto her shoulders for balance. "There it is."

"Is the purpose of such finery to torture me?" You said, squeezing your thighs together as you felt them start to become slick with desire. 

"Torture? Of course not, my love," she cooed, moving her hand up to grip your jaw and turn your face towards the forgotten piece of your triad on the bed. "Look at him. Look at our prince. A cock made of stone and neither of us have laid a finger on him." 

She was right. Oberyn's jaw was held in a tight line and if you didn't know better you would have mistaken his carefully controlled face for anger. No, it wasn't anger at all, it was a storm of lust. His fists were at his sides, balled in the silks of the bed, his robe hung open in invitation as his hard cock stood heavy between his strong thighs. He wasn't a prince...he was a god.

"Jewelry," she tipped the chains out of her hand with a delicate twinkle, "Clothes. Chains. All luxuries that are tools to put powerful men on their knees."

"I don't want powerful men on their knees," you said with honesty and she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

You shook your head and bit your lip. "Oberyn is enough."

Her laugh was light and genuine as she glanced at the man you both shared before back to you. She gave the chain attached to your nipples another tug and grinned when you gasped. "You are not a lioness, in this moment, you are a _minx_."

"Ellaria…" Oberyn's deep voice drew you both back to him. It was a warning. He had never considered himself a patient man, and what little he had was running thin. 

"Do you want me to show you?" She stepped behind you and moved your hair enough so she could nip the soft flesh of your ear. "He is not always in control--despite what he believes."

"My ego is wounded by my own paramour…" Oberyn grumbled and you both ignored him.

"Show me." You all but begged as her arm came around you and she put her hand on your stomach. 

"The most important thing to remember, sweet one," she said as she began to walk you both closer to the bed. Closer to the Prince. "You are a goddess--you are made of stars and moons. Of lightning and earth. And he is not allowed to touch you, unless you allow it."

She gripped the underside of your right thigh and raised it enough to put your foot on the bed. The action exposed you, opened you up to full view for Oberyn--breasts to cunt. Her fingers came to your mouth and without having to ask, you sucked them greedily. 

"Do you want him to touch you?" She asked, pulling her fingers from your lips so you could speak. 

"No," you said, almost too confidently as you looked down at your desperate lover. The truth was, you always wanted Oberyn to touch you. Every moment that he didn’t felt like a moment wasted, but this was Ellaria’s game and you could play along. The abruptness of your answer made his chest heave slightly as you finished with, "I want him to watch."

"That's my girl," she whispered in your ear as her hand dipped between your thighs and traced the seam of your slit. 

You were so wet that the push of her first two fingers inside of you was like welcoming her home. She found little resistance as she slowly pumped her hand in and out of you, push and drag, coating her fingers in your slick heat as your knees trembled. Oberyn's eyes were locked onto the beautiful sight before him, watching Ellaria's beautifully dark skin disappear past your coarse curls and into your cunt. He watched with a throbbing cock as she stretched you, quickly adding a third finger inside of you. 

"How do you feel, my lioness?" She nosed your cheek and you gripped the arm that was securely around your waist.

_"Desirable."_

Apparently that was the answer she was looking for because her fingers curled to find that soft rippled spot on the top wall of your cunt and you whined. She stroked it expertly, giving the chain another small tug. The combination of sensation was enough to make your knees buckle and Oberyn's large hand shot out to steady you before you collapsed. 

"A break in the rules that we'll allow," Ellaria said, as her eyes narrowed on Oberyn. The man in question scoffed and released his grip on you once he knew you were steady again. "You wish to participate, my prince?" She asked holding the chain connected to your breasts elevated slightly to him. "Tug."

"With pleasure," he growled, taking it from her gently and looking up at you with a smoldering gaze. His thick fingers curled around the tether and pulled slowly, almost agonizingly so, stretching your breasts out and away from your body. 

"S-shit--" you cursed quietly and it made him grin.

The clasp pulled free of your nipple, snapping shut and letting your tit bounce back against your body and you winced but moaned, trying to close your legs around Ellaria’s hand. 

“Oops,” he said, void of sincerity. “Let me fix that for you, my dear.” He let his warm hand envelop the front of your breast, working the nipple before reattaching the clamp.

“Oh, goddess--Ober..” you whimpered, but when he pulled the chain and gave you another tease, your head lay back on Ellaria’s shoulder and you groaned. 

Ellaria kept her arm securely around your waist as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were obscene as you felt it slide down your thighs, her hand, and over her wrist. Your heart raced, your breath came quickly, you wanted to close your legs but the position she had you in didn't allow it. 

"Such a pretty little cunt, don't you think, Oberyn?" She praised as the arm around your stomach slipped down to allow her long fingers to tease your clit. She used the tips of her fingers to slap your mound when your posture started to melt and you yelped.

"Exquisite," he agreed, keeping his eyes at the apex of your legs as Ellaria brought you to the precipice. 

"Ah!" You cried out as you started to unravel and it only spurred her fingers to go faster. Your leg started to fall from the edge of the bed and Oberyn caught it, giving your nipples another tug, as if to chastise you for losing your balance. It was a quick, unsatisfying release, unlike the drawn out bouts of pleasure you were used to with them--but it still felt amazing.

“Come here,” Oberyn said in a gravelly voice as he wrapped a solid arm around your middle and hauled you onto his lap. He fell back on the bed, dragging you with him and his fingers made quick work of exploring the strings of jewels that clattered and swung against you both. 

You squealed and put both hands on his face. His hand that wasn’t around your waist came to the back of your neck to hold you steady so he could kiss you hard. Ellaria allowed it, grinning as she slipped her dress from her shoulders and watched the two of you. 

Kissing Oberyn was something you would have gladly done until the end of your days. He consumed you with his hands, his mouth, his body, and you were gladly under his power. You could taste the Dornish reds that had almost permanently added color to his lips and it tasted better than any goblet it could ever be served in. He smelled of sunlight and cinnamon, of the oranges that grew on the trees that shaded the balcony, an endless summer that you wanted to bask in until you both were old and gray. 

A soft sigh fell from your lips as his hard cock brushed against the most intimate part of you and your legs naturally parted for him. 

“Not that I don’t admire your enthusiasm,” he mumbled against your mouth and embarrassment flooded your chest. “We should ask our mistress for this morning what she prefers.” 

Ah. Yes. He had definitely played this game more than once with his paramour and you glanced back over your shoulder to find a smirking Ellaria crawling to you like a tiger. Oberyn leaned up on his elbows as you straddled his waist and Ellaria came over his knees to press herself against your back, kissing along your shoulders. 

“Such a well behaved prince,” she cooed and Oberyn scoffed. 

“Hardly,” he tilted his head back a bit before adjusting his shoulders. “I simply know what you can be like when you don’t get your way.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure you don’t get….your way,” she purred, her long fingers grasping your chin and tilting your head to the side so she could kiss your neck. 

“State your demands,” Oberyn chided and she laughed. 

“I want you on your back, Oberyn.”

“Easy enough,” the prince obeyed and leaned back on the silks among the pillows.

“And you, my sweet girl,” Ellaria nuzzled your cheek and nodded towards the headboard. “Are going to sit that gorgeous cunt on his handsome face.”

You felt Oberyn’s cock twitch against your thigh at her words and you turned to look at her with wide eyes. She couldn’t be serious. You couldn’t do that. Why in the seven hells would she want you to do such a thing? And better yet, why wasn’t Oberyn objecting to the idea?

“I--” you stuttered, before looking back at the prince and then once again to Ellaria. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice losing its mischievous tone in favor of a more gentle one. “Don’t you like it when he gets to taste you?”

“I do.”

“Then why not?”

Your heart started to beat faster as you bit your lip and said the first concern that came to mind. “How will you breathe?”

“I think I can manage,” Oberyn chuckled with a wink. “And if I can’t, well, what a splendid way to die.”

“That’s not funny,” you said sternly and narrowed your gaze. “I’m serious.”

“As am I,” he shrugged and reached forward for your hands. You gave them to him as Ellaria relinquished her hold on you and you moved to kneel beside his shoulders. “I promise,” he began, giving the fleshy underside of your thigh a few firm pats. “That should I have the need for more air, I will move you.”

“You promise?” you asked him hesitantly.

“I am a man of my word,” he nodded before giving the same spot a nudge in the direction of his face. 

Your pulse raced but despite your trepidation, you wanted to know what it felt like. Either of them had yet to lead you astray when it came to the things they could do to your body. And the more you reflected on each time they had touched you, the more you knew you wanted anything and everything they had to give. You wanted to experience it all and who better to show you than the man between your knees and the woman in front of you? 

With a nod, you raised up and the absolute joy that lit up his face was worth the way the action made you feel exposed. You bit your lip and faced Ellaria as you settled your knees by his shoulders, jolting as he grabbed you by the front of your hips, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. 

“I got you,” he rumbled between your legs and the whimper that left your lips sounded pathetic to your own ears. “Lower.” 

Obeying the quiet command, you bent your knees and sank lower until your cunt made contact with his face. The moan that left him was the most sinful noise you had ever heard in your life. The sheer vibration it caused inside of you was enough to cripple your resolve and collapse the rest of your weight onto him. His hands held you enough to keep a minute amount of distance between your body and his, enough to move his mouth against you and enough to draw a breath. 

“Oberyn!” you yelped and he squeezed your thighs, sucking your folds and moving his head to use his nose to spread you. “Fuck--” you whispered, placing your hands on his stomach to balance yourself. 

“His mouth is as wicked as he is,” Ellaria spoke up as she moved up Oberyn’s body. You felt him jerk under you as her pussy slid over the shaft of his cock and she boldly reached down to position it at her entrance. 

“How long have you envisioned this?” you asked breathlessly as you watched the reddened head of his cock part her before slowly starting to disappear inside of her. The action caused the prince to buck his hips and he grunted against your core, making your eyes flutter.

“Long enough.” Ellaria eyed your knees and frowned. She reached forward and put her fingers under your chin, tilting your head up before grabbing your jaw. “If your knees are shaking then that means you didn’t do as he asked.” She gripped you and yanked you in to growl against your mouth. “Sit. on. His. face.” 

Accentuating each word of her command pulled the strings of your libido taught in your stomach. You let your knees drop to the bed, pressing into the silks as your core crumbled flush against the face of your dear prince. He groaned loudly and gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks so he could move his head in tandem as Ellaria began to ride him. He bit, he sucked, he lapped, like a faithful dog thrilled at the idea of bringing you pleasure. 

“Good girl,” Ellaria praised softly as she lessened her grip and kissed you. She moved her hair down, putting her long, slender fingers around your throat, using you as an anchor as she bounced on his cock. “Up.” She ordered, pulling on your neck slightly until you leaned forward and Oberyn took a deep breath from between your legs.

“Fuck the gods,” he cursed loudly as he inhaled. 

“Down.” Ellaria commanded, pushing on your throat as Oberyn pulled you greedily back down to his mouth. She squeezed just hard enough that you felt your own breath falter and your eyes closed. You dug your fingers into his torso as you ground your cunt against his tongue and felt the familiar prickle of heat in your stomach. 

“E-Ellaria,” you groaned her name like a desperate plea as your prince continued to try and devour your soul through your womb. 

You watched with desire as her tits jiggled with her thrusts as she continued to impale herself on Oberyn. If she didn’t have such a tight grip on your neck, you would have surged forward to taste her. As if reading your thoughts she leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The gems adorning your body swung between the two of you in a rhythmic clatter and sparkle. You whimpered into her mouth as Oberyn brought his hand down hard on your ass cheek and sucked your clit. 

“Yes, yes, yes, oh yes!” Ellaria screamed, tossing her long, dark hair back as she ground her orgasm down around Oberyn’s length. The man beneath you made dark, deep sounds as he followed her into oblivion and ravaged your cunt like a man starved. 

A deep clearing of someone’s through made the two of you look up, frozen in your respective throws of ecstasy only to meet the eyes of another Dornish Prince. Doran stood, leaning lightly on his jeweled cane and staring at the three of you in blatant disappointment. 

“Seven hells,” you gasped, putting your arms over your breasts and stilling your hips against Oberyn’s mouth. 

“Doran!” Ellaria laughed, clear as a bell, as she raised up. She pushed her hair from her eyes and smiled at him. 

“I knocked,” Doran said, flatly. “But no one answered--”

“Our apologies,” Ellaria giggled, clenching her legs together and drawing a grunt from Oberyn. “We were just--”

“Is my brother under there somewhere?” he asked with a gesture to the bed. 

You started to climb off of the Prince in question. “I’m not finished,” Oberyn growled against your cunt, pulling you back down on top of his face, making you squeak. 

“Oberyn!” you hissed his name as he thrust his tongue back inside of you and you crumbled against his chest. You pulled the silks over your lap in a vain attempt at modesty and Ellaria laughed again.

“If and when he decides to come up for air, tell him I need him on the terrace,” Doran rolled his eyes and turned back to the open door leading out of your chambers.

“O-of course, your grace,” you squeaked as Oberyn reached up and yanked on the chain that was still attached to your nipples. 

_“O-of course, your grace,”_ Ellaria mocked you in a sing-song voice and when you whipped your head around to glare at her, she dissolved into a fit of giggles. As she slid off of Oberyn’s cock and onto the bed, you couldn’t help but laugh too. 

\--

Oberyn slid down in his chair until he could comfortably rest his leg up on the table, not bothering to keep his boot off the edge. He drummed his fingers against the leather, tracing the buckle before moving up to the edge. The sun warmed his bare back as he closed his eyes and waited for his brother. If he had known Doran was going to make him wait then he could have taken a few seconds to put on a shirt--but after the rude way his brother had interrupted the three of you, the older Prince was lucky he had even bothered putting on pants. The thought made Oberyn smirk to himself. It would not have been the first time these halls had seen his sun-kissed cock. 

“My apologies,” Doran said as he entered and sat across from his brother in the sunlight. 

“You’re a busy man.” Oberyn at least gave him the courtesy of opening his eyes. 

“Seems I’m not the only one.” 

He dropped his leg and leaned forward on his forearms, the action allowing him to lean across the table as he lowered his voice. “You know it would do you well to take a page from my book for once--a lovely woman is good on the body and the soul--”

“Oberyn.”

“...ease the tension out of those shoulders. Get rid of the worry lines on your forehead. I don’t remember them being so prominent--”

_“O-ber-yn…”_ Doran said more firmly, annunciating the syllables. The younger man held up his hands in surrender before sinking back down into his relaxed position in the chair once again. “I may have found a solution to our problem.”

“Our problem?” Oberyn asked, putting a hand to his chest and frowning. “No. You see--I don’t have a problem, Tywin has a problem.”

“It became our problem when you brought it to my doorstep.”

“Don’t talk about her like an object.” Oberyn snapped and it was Doran’s turn to nod his apology. 

“Sorry.”

He had brought you from a place that saw you as nothing more than decoration and he would not have that be true of your existence in Dorne. The younger man bit his lip and put his hand on the table, silently taping his fingers on the polished surface. “Have you spoken to him? Tywin, that is.”

“Yes.” 

“That didn’t take long.”

“King’s Landing is not as far away as you seem to believe it is,” Doran stated. “If we went to war tomorrow they would be at our gates within a week.”

“We’re not going to war,” Oberyn said flatly, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked up at the other man. If they didn’t go to war over Elia then then it didn’t seem likely that actions such as these warranted such an egregious response. Let Tywin take it as the insult he so desperately wanted it to be--he could live with that. 

“No, we’re not--because I won’t let us.” Doran clasped his hands on the table and let go of a heavy sigh that Made Oberyn leary of what he was about to say. 

“You made a deal.” It wasn’t a question.

“I did.”

“What did Tywin want? And more importantly--what did you give him? Out with it.” 

Oberyn felt himself growing more irritated by the minute. The fact that they were even considering giving such a man anything for someone he didn’t own was beyond comprehension. You weren’t Tywin’s daughter, you were his niece. Daughter of his brother in law, who technically speaking, was also his cousin--it made the Prince’s head hurt. The desire of the lion to keep their power within their pride was something he would never understand. The lengths that they went removed all love from the ties that bound them together--there was only power. 

“Tywin wanted what he has always wanted--a Lannister on the throne of Dorne.” 

“You must be joking,” Oberyn felt his heart fall to his knees. The idea of giving you to Doran was not the worst thing in the world, at least you would be alive. But he knew you would certainly take an issue with such a plan.

Doran must have seen the look on his face because he shook his head. “You know I would never do that--besides, as far as Tywin knows, I’m still married.”

“Then who? Me?” Oberyn shook his head. “The throne is not mine--”

“If I die it is--at least until Trystane is old enough. And then Tywin gets what he wants.”

“Do you plan on dying any time soon, brother?”

“I don’t think any of us do.” Doran gave a joyless chuckle and propped his chin on his hand. “He was going to marry Cersei to you once upon a time--why is this any different? Now, he gets to keep his beloved blonde witch for an even bigger prize.”

“She is not his to give away--”

“The northern realms don’t think the way we do, you know this. Joanna’s dead, her father is dead--”

“What about her Uncle?”

“He’s apparently missing.”

“Convenient.”

“Isn’t it always?” Doran leveled his gaze with the younger man and rubbed his thumbs together in thought. “I think given the choice--I know what your little lioness would choose.”

“Between becoming my bride and going back to King’s Landing? I would hope the choice would be an easy one.” He grinned to himself as he thought of what your reaction would be to such a decision. The way your eyes would go wide and your mouth would open to a perfect pout of disgust, but the thought of another person made his smile falter. “What of Ellaria?”

“What of her?” Doran shrugged and Oberyn clenched his fist. 

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean, is it alright with me if you and your newly betrothed continue fucking her?” Doran raised his eyebrow.

“You know damn well she is more than that--”

“She is your paramour.” He said in an even voice as he sensed his little brother’s temper begin to rise. “What did you think would happen if I had to marry you off for the sake of the country? What was your plan?”

Oberyn stayed silent for a minute. He had thought of this more often than he cared to admit. When the war for the iron throne started to bubble off in the distance as the powers at play began to churn the tides, he knew it was a definite possibility that his title of prince would call him to action. He would do what was best for Dorne but he by no means would abandon Ellaria. He loved her. He could not imagine the world...his world without her in it. Any deal that didn’t include the woman that had been at his side for almost a decade wasn’t a deal that he was interested in making. 

Apparently he had stayed silent for a moment too long because Doran continued. 

“What you do in your bed with the Lannister woman is your own business,” he started. “But you will marry her publicly. You will swear the Dornish oath to her publicly, and so help me Oberyn, after the mountain of shit you have brought to my shores if Tywin asked you to fuck her publicly, then you would do it--am I understood?”

“Yes,” Oberyn answered. 

“Good.”

“How long?”

“A month,” Doran pulled a ledger and his quill from the opposite side of the table. “Time for us to prepare something spectacular and time for them to figure out who they will be sending to bear witness and pay respects.”

“Respects,” Oberyn scoffed. “To spy, you mean,”

“That too, I’m sure.” Doran looked over a few of the writings on the page before back up to his brother. “Ask her what she knows of the Lannister Princess.”

“Myrcella?” Oberyn cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That was the second part of the deal.” He set everything aside and leaned back in his chair more comfortably. “She’s to come to Dorne in the coming years--her and Trystane--”

“Don’t do that to my nephew,” Oberyn demanded, pointing a finger at the man across the table. 

“It might be a good match.”

“He’s a child--”

“So is she--”

“Let him experience the world. Let him choose what he wants and who he wants. Let him be--”

“Like you?” Doran cut him off and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not everyone gets the same opportunities you have carved out for yourself, brother. My son will do his duty to Dorne and to his father. It will do him well to see his Uncle marry a Lannister if he is to follow in your footsteps one day.” 

Oberyn ran his tongue on the outside of his teeth, pursing his lips together as his jaw locked in anger. That was an undelightful corner his brother had just backed him into with ease--he often forgot how cunning Doran could be. His physical ailments had forced his tongue to grow as sharp as Oberyn’s blade and the gods be damned, he knew how to wield it. If Doran thought they could dismantle an entire dynasty from the inside with two measly marriages, then he was a fool. But Doran was no fool. Promising Tywin something they both wanted bought him time, and time was peace. And peace was all Doran ever wanted. 

“Is that all?” Oberyn asked, looking at the table instead of the other man’s gaze. 

“That’s all.”

“I want to tell her.”

“Of course,” Doran nodded. “I expected as much.”

Oberyn was quiet for a moment as the unspoken sense of expectation settled at the bottom of his gut. He looked at his brother, observed the way the stresses of running a kingdom had turned his handsome face into one of age. But then Doran had always been the pillar of strength and sternness in the family. Oberyn paused with his hand on the doorway as he looked back at the other man. 

“You know I would not bring bloodshed to your shores if she was nothing more than a common harlot--right?” he asked, keeping his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know,” Doran said, lifting his gaze and putting down his quill. “You’ve always made decisions with your heart, my dear brother. It is both your greatest strength...and your greatest weakness.”


End file.
